You're Where I'll Be
by angellwings
Summary: [Brett/Casey] [MultiChap] "There's no rush. They've got plenty of time. Or at least that's what he tells himself every time he forces away a not-so-platonic thought about Sylvie Brett. Just like he's going to do now."
1. Plenty of Time

**A/N: **I randomly wanted to write the basic concept of this fic. I just had the urge, like a craving. This will be a multichap, but unlike my last one the chapters will be shorter (which means more chapters). Hopefully, you guys will enjoy this one just as much as the last one!

Happy reading!

angellwings

PS - this fic does involve a character death but not a MAJOR character.

* * *

You're Where I'll Be

by angellwings

* * *

CHAPTER ONE

* * *

"Brett," Boden announces as he marches into the common room.

She glances up from her magazine and starts to stand but Boden holds a hand out to stop her.

"I've worked it out with Kidd. She'll cover ambo for you so feel free to take off a couple of hours early."

She nods but doesn't look excited about it. "Thank you, Chief."

"See you bright and early the next shift," Boden tells her as he walks away.

Sylvie sighs and starts to gather her things. She's just been told she can leave early but she looks as though she's about to suffer through chilli night.

"Everything okay?" Casey asks from where he's pouring himself a fresh cup of coffee.

"Yeah! Sorry, the request should have gone through you but you were off half of a shift and it was last minute so—"

He nods and interrupts her nervous rambling. "That's not what I'm asking. Really, it's fine. But why the last minute request? Are you good?"

"Oh! Yeah, definitely. Just doing a favor I'd rather not do," she answers him with obvious relief, but it doesn't take long for relief to become discomfort. She glances around the room to verify it's just the two of them before continuing. "Do you remember Hope?"

He quirks a brow with an unamused expression — not even bothering to answer her. Hope made sure she was hard to forget so the question is absurd.

"Right, of course you do. Well, she and I sort of talked when I was in Fowlerton. She was dating a firefighter in the house I was working out of and then Kyle—" She stops and huffs. He can see regret reflecting in her eyes and he can't help but feel partly to blame. It was his words that convinced her to go. "You know Kyle. Big on forgiveness. So I tried to patch it up but then...I don't know. It never felt right. The trust is just..._gone_. But I thought I was going to have to see her everyday so I put on a friendly front and let it go. Only then…"

"Then you left," he finishes for her.

"Exactly, and I assumed I left her there too."

"I'm guessing you assumed wrong?" He asks curiously.

"She's coming into town. Taking a bus. She needs a ride from the bus station to her hotel and I'm the only person she knows in Chicago. Plus, she thinks we're still friends," she explains as she shakes her head at herself. "It felt rude to say no even if I'd rather do _anything_ else. That's dumb, right? To drop everything and do a favor for someone you don't even like? I feel like such a doormat when it comes to Hope."

He picks up his mug and moves over to the table where she's sitting. When he reaches her, he's sure to meet her eyes. "Being a good person doesn't make you a doormat. Plus, you and Hope have a history. That's a hard thing to let go of. No one knows that better than me."

She stands and ends up eye level in front of him. Her eyes are still on his, only now they look tired. He can understand why. "Thank you. I appreciate that, Casey. But I think...I think I've long outgrown Shock-And-Awe, in more ways than one. This _should be _my last favor for her. From now on, I think—I think she makes her way in the world without me."

He could tell that wasn't an easy thought for her to voice. Even after having said it she looks as though she doubts herself. She mentioned trying to forgive Hope for Kyle and for the first time he wonders if she felt pressured to meet Kyle's expectations of her "goodness" often. He knows Sylvie is a good person but he would never expect her to do something she wasn't comfortable with simply _because_ she's so good. Had the Chaplain supported Sylvie or had he expected her to support _him_?

"Well, I get it. You've definitely given her enough chances," he says, encouragingly. If _Sylvie_ thinks someone doesn't deserve the benefit of the doubt then they don't. He's certain of that. He lets his serious expression fade and then smiles softly at her. "But I do feel sorry for Hope. A world without Sylvie Brett sounds pretty dull to me."

Her exhaustion turns into pleased elation as a bright smile blooms on her face. Her chest puffs out slightly with pride and he swallows down a laugh. She's cute. She's always been cute.

"Why, thank you, Matt Casey. That feeling is definitely mutual," she replies, squeezing his arm as she breezes by him to make her way to the door. "Thanks for the talk. I'll see you next shift."

They trade friendly waves as she walks off toward the locker room. Before she left for Fowlerton, they talked like that more often. He misses that. But spending time with Sylvie leads to confusing feelings that he's been trying to avoid, especially after his relapse with Gabby. Getting over Gabby the first time around was hard, but falling backwards and having to recover ground was frustrating in addition to being difficult. He needs to get his own head straight before letting himself go down that road with Sylvie again. Sometimes he thinks he's there but then other times his mind overrules his gut and he worries about ruining their friendship and working relationship. So, lately, he's just been _not _thinking about it. It's the safer option for both of them.

Besides, he's sure she's still getting over Kyle too. And that's fine — to be expected, actually. There's no rush. They've got plenty of time. Or at least that's what he tells himself every time he forces away a not-so-platonic thought about Sylvie Brett. Just like he's going to do now.

He dives back in to incident reports and personnel requests and let's the job distract him from his emotions. It's probably better that way.

Nearly an hour later, they get a call about a vehicle accident and take off to the location. When they arrive they find a silver sedan pinned between a large SUV and the guardrail. It doesn't look as bad as it had the potential to be but it's still gruesome.

It's not until he steps toward the cars that his heart plummets. He knows that car. He's seen that car parked outside of the firehouse and Molly's hundreds of times.

"Cruz!" Casey yells, his voice breaking.

When Cruz looks his way he nods toward the car. Joe recognizes it as easily as he does. "Holy shit. Casey, that's—"

Once he has confirmation of his fears, the world goes red. Anger, panic, fear. He doesn't let Cruz finish his sentence.

"Brett!" He takes off toward the silver sedan, hops the guardrail, and approaches the driver's side — Cruz hot on his heels.

His chest feels like it's in a vice at the sight of her. Her head is back against the headrest instead of slammed against the steering wheel. That's a positive sign. But she's still out cold, covered in glass. There are tiny laceration littered over her face and arms. He pokes his head in the window and one glance is enough to tell him she's pinned into the seat by the steering column.

His eyes haven't quite made it to the passenger side yet, but he knows there's someone else in the car with her.

"Captain," Joe says somberly. He squeezes Casey's shoulder and then nods to the other seat. "It's Hope."

He tears his eyes away from Brett to find Hope, twisted and broken. It'll be a miracle if she still has a pulse.

"Shit," he mutters under his breath. He looks over the top of the sedan to Hermann as he checks the SUV. "Where's the driver?"

"Bailed!" Hermann yells. "Driver hit them in a much larger car with the center of the bumper. Probably got away with barely a scratch."

"Haul it off!" Casey orders. "Get the jaws, get the passenger door open, and get Hope out!"

"What about Brett?" Kidd asks, brows creased in worry.

"She looks okay, but she's unconscious and pinned. We need to get Hope out to get to her!" Cruz replies. "I'll get the jaws."

"Capp, put a chain on the SUV and tow it!" Casey demands. "Let's go!"

Cruz leaves but Casey can't. He doesn't want to leave her alone like this. It doesn't feel right. He's not sure how long he's been standing there, staring at Sylvie, but it must be long enough for people to notice. He can hear Boden calling for him.

"Captain Casey," Boden says sternly. "Focus up! You can't help Brett from that side of the rail!"

He knows that. He _should_ know that. The rail blocks the door and the way she's pinned would prevent him pulling her through the busted window, but his feet won't move.

"Casey!" Boden tries again.

He swallows and it feels like sandpaper but the fog clears ever so slightly. She's not dead. She's not seriously injured, but the longer she stays in that car the riskier the circumstances become. Pull it together, Casey.

"Alright!" He yells as he stands to his full height and forces his eyes away from her. "Foster! Kidd! Be ready with a backboard!"

He jumps the rail as Capp finishes chaining the SUV to the truck. He pulls it out of the way and then Cruz and Hermann rush in with the jaws. The door is forced open and then immediately falls off. It was bent in almost a perfect horseshoe shape and barely clinging to the car by its hinges.

Foster approaches and checks Hope's pulse with a gloved hand. She glances over at Casey with a shake of her head.

"Nothing," she states. "She's gone. Body temp has dropped too. They may have been here a while."

"Get her out," Casey instructs. "Clear the seat. Brett's living. Focus on her."

They get Hope secured on a backboard and walk her toward the stretcher. The minute her body's clear, Gallo calls out from the back of the sedan.

"We got a leak, Captain!"

The pressure that's been sitting on his chest since he recognized Sylvie's car turns into a throbbing ache that travels all over his body.

"Get back!" Boden yells. "Get clear!"

Are they fucking _kidding_? They can't leave Brett when the car might spark any second!

"Casey!" Boden yells as everyone else clears scene. "That includes you!"

Like hell it does.

Before he has a chance to be talked out of it, he jumps into the mangled passenger seat. He thinks he hears Boden curse but he doesn't care. _It's Sylvie_. He will not lose her like this. Not to a hit and run and a gas leak. No fucking way. He needs to move the seat back or the steering column up. Her chest is rising and falling, he doesn't see any major gashes or breaks. If he can get her out of the car before it goes up then she'll be _fine_.

She has to be.

He reaches over her prone body and uses all the strength he has to push the locked wheel upward. It frees her just enough to pull her out with minimal risk of further injury. Mercifully, the seatbelt isn't jammed and it lets go quickly.

"I need a handoff!" Casey calls out.

He waits until his men show up at the door to lift Brett from the seat as gently as possible. When he pulls her out, he can see a large gushing slice on her right thigh and open gash just below her left knee. Both are injuries from being crushed under the steering wheel, but he knows it could have been much worse. Still could be if this hand off doesn't happen fast.

Joe is the first at the passenger side door. He grabs Brett under her arms while Hermann, Ritter, Mouch and Capp flank her sides. They move carefully, leaving him to wait for them to clear out before he can crawl out too.

Just as Brett is clear of danger, he hears Gallo yell that the car has sparked. _Shit_. Casey hauls ass to get free from the car and then launches himself the necessary number of feet away. A split second after he hits the pavement the car bursts into flames.

If he'd waited like he'd been ordered, Sylvie would have been trapped inside that vehicle when it lit up.

He hears the ambo doors close and turns to find it speeding away from the scene, with Sylvie Brett inside. His focus evaporates pretty quickly after that. He feels a hand on his shoulder and turns to find Boden giving him a knowing and sympathetic look. He tosses him a set of keys which Casey barely catches.

"Take my buggy and go to Med," he instructs. "I'll stay here and supervise clean up."

Casey hesitates because he feels like he shouldn't be this affected by what just happened. Sylvie will most likely be fine and Foster and Kidd are with her. With any other member of his crew he'd stay and go to Med after, but...this isn't any other member of his crew.

"Thanks, Chief," Casey says with a thick swallow. And just like that, accident clean up is forgotten. He has more important things to focus on right now.


	2. Everything Hurts

**A/N: **Thank you for the amazing response to chapter one! I'm so happy you guys are enjoying it! I just finished writing chapter four of this fic so to celebrate I thought I would post chapter two.

Happy reading!

angellwings

* * *

CHAPTER TWO

* * *

He arrives at Med to find Kidd seated in the waiting area and Foster pacing a path into the linoleum.

"What's the word?" He asks them as he tries he damndest to remain calm.

"Nothing yet," Kidd says. "She came to on the way over. She was alert but not exactly present when we took her back."

"Present?" Foster repeats angrily. "She was terrified out of her mind. Kept repeating the same sentence over and over. Something about Hope knowing someone…" she stops pacing and meets Casey's worried gaze. "The driver bailed, right? Do we think they targeted them? Maybe that's who Hope knew?"

Stella's calm demeanor slips and she runs a hand across her face before answering. "Not to speak ill of the dead or anything, but it wouldn't surprise me in the slightest. Hope was pretty good at making enemies. What was Brett even doing with her anyway? I thought that was over."

Casey collapses into one of the waiting room chairs and then looks over at Stella. "She said she was doing her one last favor. Hope came to town last minute and asked for a ride to her hotel. Apparently, Brett made amends with Hope while she was back home—something about the Chaplain wanting her to or her thinking he wanted her to? She and Hope weren't friends. Just...acquaintances."

"We called in a second ambo for Hope," Foster informs him. "They should be bringing her in any minute."

"God, I hope they get the asshole who hit them," Stella seethes. "We could have lost Sylvie today." She points at Matt before continuing. "You barely got her out of that car before it blew."

"Speaking of," Foster says as she turns an appraising glance at him. "Did anybody check you out before you came over here? You've got some nasty looking road rash on your forehead."

"I'm fine," he insists. He's sore and scraped. It's nothing he hasn't had before.

Foster scoffs. "Brett wouldn't accept that answer and neither will I. At least let me check you for signs of a concussion."

"I told you, I'm fine. Leave it alone," he snaps, gruffly. As soon as he says it he winces. That was uncalled for. He gives Foster an apologetic glance. "Sorry. I didn't mean—"

Her hand lands on his shoulder to stop him from talking and then squeezes. "I know. I get it."

"What is taking this doctor so long, anyway? She had minor wounds," Casey grouses as he stands again. Foster's stopped pacing but she seems to have passed her anxious habit to him. Now he's the one wearing out the floor.

"They're probably doing as many x-rays as possible to check for internal wounds," Foster assures him. "It's standard procedure."

Internal wounds. He didn't even think about— "The steering wheel would have hit her chest. What if—"

"We're not doing that, Casey," Kidd says sternly. "We're not playing the What If game. She's safe and amazingly unharmed. She's staying that way."

It's another twenty minutes before the doctor finally shows himself. Kidd was right. Sylvie is amazingly unharmed. She has a fractured rib, stitches across her thigh and knee, and smaller cuts and scrapes from all the broken glass. No serious wounds or internal injuries.

"Ms. Brett was very fortunate. It could have been much worse," the doctor tells them, as if they've never seen an accident victim before.

Casey fights an eye roll because he still has one more question and he feels as though he needs to be on the doctor's good side to get the answer he wants.

"Can we see her?"

The response is a resounding yes and they're lead back to the curtained off bed she's been assigned. He releases a breath he didn't know he was holding at the sight of her awake and alert. Her eyes are bloodshot and the smile she gives them is miniscule, but she's _present_. She's also calmer than any of them expect her to be.

Kidd and Foster immediately go in for hugs but he hangs back. His protective instincts are keyed up and a hug at this stage may turn into him never letting her go. He doubts she wants him stuck to her like glue so soon after the accident — or maybe ever.

Instead, he settles for talking. "How are you feeling?"

"Sore," she replies honestly. "Everything hurts. Did you find the driver?"

He shakes his head. "He was gone when we got there. Left the car and bailed."

"And Hope?"

He shares an apprehensive glance with Foster and Kidd. He's not sure telling her about Hope's fate _right _now is such a good idea.

As luck would have it, they're saved from answering her question by the arrival of CPD. Since it was a hit and run, a couple of detectives show up to take Sylvie's statement.

No one asks any of them to leave the room which means Casey gets to hear the entire harrowing story.

Sylvie thought she saw someone following them once they left the bus station but she thought she might be paranoid. The SUV she thought was following them turned out to be the car that rammed them. She said they kept trying to hit the rear of her car to make her spin out but she managed to avoid it every time. Then when he got tired of that, he picked up speed and T-boned them.

"Did you see the driver's face?" The detective asks.

"No, I was focused on trying to get away from him," Sylvie states through an unsteady breath. "He chased us for close to ten minutes, and Hope was yelling...but I—" she pauses and her voice cracks. "I think Hope did. She kept screaming about him. Apologizing to me," Sylvie recalls.

Every brow in the room furrows.

The detective doesn't miss a beat. "Apologizing?"

"Yeah, she said something like…'I never thought he'd go this far'. I can't remember exactly," Sylvie tells them, frustrated tears welling up in her eyes. "I'm sorry I'm not more help. I guess I'm pretty useless considering…"

"Hey," Matt says loudly in order to deliberately catch Sylvie's watery gaze. She breathes in and out and nods in acknowledgement. Once she does, he continues. "You are helping. You're not useless. Just telling them what you remember is enough."

The detective nods his agreement and gives Sylvie an encouraging smile. "That was more helpful than you know. I may be in touch with more questions, but I think we're done for now. Thank you."

"You should talk to Hope," Sylvie advises with a sniffle. "I'm sure if you ask her she could describe him for you."

They all collectively wince at the mention of Hope, but the detectives don't correct her. They nod and then leave the room. But he can tell that Sylvie notices the tension left in their wake.

"What—what happened to Hope?" She asks the room. Foster and Kidd glance away from her. When they won't talk she turns to him. "Matt?"

The picture she makes right now puts a crack in his heart. She's cut and scraped, red eyed and raw, and she's looking for good news. He wishes, with all he has in him, that he had some.

"Sylvie, we don't know how long the two of you were out there but by the time we arrived she—" He pauses and takes a deep breath, ignoring the stinging in his own eyes. "—she was gone. We couldn't save her."

Her expression crumbles in seconds and her hands come up to cover her face. Her shoulders are shaking but none of them hear any sobs. Suddenly, she takes a large gasping breath, scrubs her hands across her face, and lays her head back on the pillows.

Her eyes close as her chest starts to heave, but through the tears she still manages to speak.

"Please leave," she says in a voice ragged with tears.

Foster reaches out to put an arm around her but Brett brushes it aside. "Sylvie…"

"I want to be alone. _Please_. Just for a while," she begs. "I can't..._please_."

Stella looks ready to argue but Matt intervenes. The last thing Sylvie needs right now is more stress.

He clamps a gentle but firm grip down on Stella's shoulder before he speaks. "Yeah, of course. Whatever you need." He leans closer to force himself in her line of sight. "If you change your mind. We're right outside. Okay?" Her face is blank as the tears continue to fall and he has a fleeting fear that she may be in shock. "Sylvie, did you hear me?"

After an agonizing moment she nods with half lidded eyes. "I hear you."

He leads Foster and Kidd out of the curtained off area and then parks himself against the parallel wall. He'll let her have her privacy but he's not leaving.

"Stella, go see if anyone else from 51 is here yet," Casey orders, defaulting back into Captain mode. At Stella's glare he adds, "Please?"

Foster blows out an anxious breath. "I've never her seen her like that. I've seen her upset but never so…"

"Distraught," Casey declares, completing her sentence. He's never seen Sylvie quite like that either. He saw her after Mills left, he saw her after Otis died, but never like _this_. This was grief mixed with fear and regret. It had the potential to drown a person.

"She's gonna be okay, right?" Foster asks. He can hear the doubt in her voice and it unnerves him. There's no room for doubt right now.

"She's strong," Matt tells Foster, confidently. "She'll be fine. She just needs a little bit of time. That's all."

A few minutes after Stella leaves to check for the rest of 51, Boden comes marching down the hall. He stops in front of Matt. Casey expects him to ask for his keys back but he doesn't.

"How is she?" Boden asks.

"She just found out about Hope. She's asked to be alone," Matt replies as he casts a worried look at the curtain around Brett's bed.

"Poor kid," Boden says with a deep set frown. "How is she otherwise?"

Matt forces himself to take a calming breath as he remembers her injuries and the story she told CPD. "Broken rib, a couple of deep gashes from the steering column, but otherwise fine. Her statement to the detectives was pretty terrifying though. That'll be tough to work through."

Boden nods, looking grim. "There were quite a few skid marks at the scene. Looked like an intense chase."

"She said Hope knew the driver," Foster adds with a furrowed brow. "If he's still out there then should we be concerned he might come back?"

"Doubtful," Boden says with a shake of his head. "He probably doesn't even realize one of them survived. Let alone know where to find Brett."

Foster shares a doubtful look with Matt and he knows how she feels. He's not half as confident as Boden is about Sylvie's safety.

"I'd like to hang around for the remainder of shift, Chief. If that's okay with you," Casey asks, pointedly glancing between Boden and Sylvie's privacy curtain.

Boden nods. "I'm good with that. If we get a call you take my buggy and you meet us there, otherwise you bring it back to the house at the end of your shift. Understood?"

"Understood, Chief," Casey answers.

"Foster, let's go," Boden orders. "We have a shift to finish. We'll let Captain Casey keep us up to date on PIC Brett." The Chief hands him a large sealed plastic bag. "We grabbed her personal effects out of her vehicle during clean up. Let her know that all of 51 is with her when you can."

Casey gives Boden a quick, brisk nod as he turns and walks back toward the lobby.

Foster meets Matt's eyes before she reluctantly moves to follow. "Take good care of our girl."

"Always," he swears.

Boden and Foster pass the doctor on their way out. The doctor who's name he still doesn't know. It's not anyone at Med he's worked with before and his only real concern is Sylvie. The doctor spots him and makes his way over.

"We're keeping her for overnight observation," he informs him. "She'll be discharged in the morning around eight. If I know you CFD types like I think I do then I expect you'll be here to take her home?"

He nods. "She'll have people here long before then. Trust me."

"I have no doubt," the doctor says with a chuckle. "I'm about to go let her know. Would you like to be there when I do?"

Matt nods again and follows the doctor as he moves the privacy curtain and approaches Sylvie's bed.

"Ms. Brett," the doctor greets.

Sylvie wipes at her face as they enter and then pastes on an unconvincing smile. "Am I good to go?"

"Not quite yet," he says kindly. "Considering that the steering column caused damage to your chest we'd like to keep you for observation. Just until the morning."

"Oh, okay," she says with a thick swallow. "That's fine."

"I don't foresee any complications. This is just a precaution," he explains. "I'll be back to check on you in a little while."

"Thank you, Doctor," Sylvie replies as he leaves. Her eyes fall to the plastic bag in Matt's hands. "Is that my stuff?"

"Boden and 51 brought it by," Matt answers as he hands her the bag. "They got it out of your car during clean up. Boden asked to let you know the entire house is here for whatever you need."

She smiles warmly at him as she opens the bag. "I never had any doubt of that."

She dumps the bag on the bed and he immediately catches her look of concern.

"What is it?" He asks.

"You're sure they got everything out of my car?" She asks with a furrowed brow.

"Chief said they cleaned it out for you. If it was truck and squad then they were thorough," he assures her.

"My bag," she says as looks through the loose items on the bed. "It's not here."

Alarm bells are going off in his head. They're so loud that for a moment he thinks he's back at the Firehouse. "What?"

"My purse with my wallet inside, meaning my ID, my phone, and my credit cards — _everything_. It's not here. I know my bag was in the car. I always throw it in the backseat," she tells him, frantically. "This is just a bunch of CDs and old pairs of sunglasses and _chapstick_. If my bag wasn't in the car when they cleaned it out then...where is it?"

Their eyes meet across the small space and he knows they're both thinking the exact same thing. His phone is out and he's dialing in seconds. "What was the detectives name who came by earlier?"

"I—I don't remember," Sylvie answers with a frown. Her eyes well up with tears again, but they look frustrated and angry. Not mournful. "I've been saying that a lot lately."

"Hey, don't worry about it. It's fine," he says as he crosses the distance and puts a hand on her shoulder. While he waits for someone to pick up, he rubs her back soothingly. "I'm calling Halstead. It's gonna be okay."

"Okay? Matt, this guy killed Hope! And he might have my address! I mean, what if he—"

"He _won't_. No one's going to let that happen," he says firmly just before Halstead answers his phone.

Sylvie watches him and listens and he tells Halstead what they know so far. Halstead tells him he'll send a protective detail over to Med right away and let the detective on the case know that Brett might be in danger. They just need to sit tight. When he relays all of this to Sylvie she visibly pales.

"This is crazy," she says as she rests her head in her hands. "All I did was pick someone up from a bus station and now I—" She cuts off her own sentence and shakes her head, holding back tears. "I just want to go home."

He wishes she could, but given what they've just discovered it's probably best that she doesn't.

Shift is over by the time the detail shows up and with them comes the rest of 51. CPD has Sylvie moved to a private room for her overnight observation and 51 arranges shifts to have someone from the house with her in addition to the detail. Matt doesn't decide to leave until everything is settled.

"You guys," Sylvie says as Hermann settles into the chair in her room. "You don't have to stay. You're off shift. Go home and rest. CPD is outside. I'm fine. _Really_."

"Kid, don't even try it," Hermann tells her with a parental stare. "We're here just like we would be for anyone in the house. Plus, since I've got first shift, Cindy's bringing you your own batch of brownies."

Sylvie gives Hermann her first bright smile of the day as a stray tear slides down on her cheek — it's a grateful tear as far as he can tell. "Well, I do love Cindy's brownies."

Hermann pats her knee and winks. "We've got your back, Brett."

Hermann and Casey trade glances. Casey understands immediately what Hermann wants him to know. He has time to take the buggy back, go home, and do whatever else he might need to do. They've got Brett. He doesn't need to worry.

And, while that's good to know, he plans to worry anyway.

He takes back Chief Boden's buggy and goes to his quarters to fill out his reports. He changes in the locker room and then heads for his truck, fully intending to go back to the hospital but Boden catches him outside the firehouse.

"How's Sylvie?" He asks.

"Shaken up, but I think better now that more of 51 is around," he tells him. "She was certainly happy to hear Cindy was bringing brownies, at least."

Boden chuckles. "Well, who wouldn't be happy about that? And you? How are _you_?"

Boden's expression is too knowing. Casey's behavior at the accident scene was abnormal and they're both well aware of that. Casey decides to play it off.

"You know, worried about her like I would any of my people," he says with feigned carelessness.

"Right." Boden nods and then adds, "But Sylvie Brett isn't just one of your people. Is she?"

"Chief, I don't—"

"Casey, I've known you for a long time. I've seen you distracted and I know what it looks like. It takes something really extraordinary to hurt your focus. Seeing Brett in danger today had you taking huge risks. Like jumping into a car when it's about to spark—"

"All due respect, if I hadn't jumped into that car—"

"I'm not saying it wasn't a good save, Casey. I'm saying, let's not pretend as if you're reacting the same way you would if it were Mouch or Capp. We've always been upfront with each other. Let's not stop now," Boden says as he motions for Casey to keep walking. "What's going on with Brett?"

"Nothing," he answers, truthfully. "Well, nothing I know how to handle anyway. It started after she broke up with the Chaplain the first time around. I was just about to ask her to dinner when the guy showed up out of the blue and proposed. Then after she came back, it took both of us a bit to find our footing again and then…"

Chief gives him a sympathetic glance. "Dawson came back."

"Yeah," Casey answers with a sigh. "I forced myself to stop thinking about Sylvie so I could work through that. I told myself I had plenty of time. But today, seeing her car at that accident scene—it damn near took thirty years off my life. I don't know what to do with that."

"Right now you don't do anything with it," Boden advises. "Brett's got a lot to work through. The best thing you can do for her now is just...be there. Once we get her through this _then_ you figure out what to do. She needs her family more than anything else at the moment."

Casey nods dutifully. "That makes sense, Chief. Thanks."

"Anytime," he replies. "Now, let's go visit our PIC. Help her feel safe."


	3. In a Heartbeat

**A/N:** HAPPY NEW YEAR. For those of you who are just finding me for the first time, thank you so much for reading! Also, if you would like to follow me on twitter you can find under "angellwings". I have been tweeting about CF a lot lately and occasionally I do offer a sneak peek of things I'm working on. I also love getting to talk to you all any way I can! So if you're on twitter look me up. I'm also on insta as "angellwingsffn". I fangirl there often. ;)

Happy reading! I hope you enjoy this chapter!

angellwings

* * *

CHAPTER THREE

* * *

By the time Casey and Boden arrive back at the hospital Brett has had enough time to process her earlier emotional state. All she feels is humiliation. She can't remember enough details to help the cops, she ranges from blank to hysterical in the blink of an eye, and she's suddenly dependent on other people to keep her safe. She's feeling more and more like that girl who ran away from Fowlerton all those years ago.

She wants to stop being an emotional basket case. She wasn't even that close to Hope anymore so she doesn't understand why she keeps ranging so high and so low.

That chase was the most terrifying thing she'd been a part of in a long while. She tried to outrun him for several minutes in her pathetic run of the mill sedan. The sounds of the SUV scraping her car every time he got close mixed with the sounds of Hope yelling and screaming. It rang in her ears almost constantly.

Foster and Kidd are treating her like she might break. Casey looks at her as if she might slip away from him at any moment. Cruz has been standing in a wide defensive stance at her bedside for an hour now. The only people who aren't treating her with kid gloves are Hermann, Mouch, Ritter, and Gallo.

And now Chief Boden — she hopes.

He walks right up to her bed and takes her hand in his and pats the top of it with his other hand. "Sylvie Brett, don't you ever scare us like that again. Do you copy?"

"Copy, Chief," she swears with a sigh of relief.

"Good, now where is that batch of brownies I heard Cindy Hermann brought over?" He asks as he takes up Hermann's former chair.

"Brett ate 'em all," Mouch accuses from the corner of the room.

Her mouth drops open and a glare forms on her face. "I did not! I had maybe _two_. If they're gone, Mouch, then _you_ ate them all."

"She's right," Casey says with a grin. "History tells us that if anyone is going to hog Cindy's brownies, it's Mouch."

She meets his eyes with a soft grin and a muted chuckle. "Thank you, Casey. It's good to have back up."

"Well," he starts. "You always have that."

Cruz's hand grabs her shoulder with a gentle squeeze. "Anytime, any place."

"Thanks, guys," Brett says to everyone in the room. "I can't tell you how grateful I am. _Really_."

"You should thank Casey," Cruz tells her. "The minute someone said the car might spark, he jumped into that passenger seat so fast we barely saw him move."

_What_?

Casey grimaces. "Cruz, you really shouldn't—"

"Wait," Sylvie says with a furrowed brow as her eyes find Casey's. "There was a gas leak and you...jumped into it?"

He doesn't answer, but Mouch does.

"He ripped that steering column off your legs and handed you out of that car a split second before it went up."

She should feel immense gratitude but what she feels is rage. "Do you have a death wish, Captain Casey?"

"Brett, they ordered everybody back. I couldn't leave you—"

"And if it hadn't worked out the way it did, what then?" She asks in a raised voice.

She's not entirely certain why she's being so aggressive with him, but the idea of him dying for her doesn't sit well at all. Casey looks blindsided. She can't blame him. She is too a bit. She's feeling a combination of protective and guilty. She's never felt those two things together.

"Let's give Brett and Casey a minute alone," Boden says with something akin to amusement on his face. "Mouch, Cruz, let's go see what the coffee situation here is like."

Mouch and Cruz follow Boden out of the room, leaving Sylvie alone with Casey for the second time that day.

"You jumped into a car that might have gone up any second? Casey, you don't do that. You're smarter than that. I—_why_?"

He looks confused. His eyes narrow on her and his head tilts. The sincerity in his blue gaze hits her almost as hard as the pain from her broken rib.

"Because it was _you_, Sylvie. I _knew_ I could get you out of there and I had no intention of losing anyone else I care about. Not when I could do something about it," he declares resolutely. "Maybe that put me at risk, but it turned out to be worth it and I would do it again in a heartbeat."

"If I had been the cause of your death, Matt Casey, I would never forgive—"

"But you weren't," he reminds her. "We're both here. Alive and mostly well."

"That was reckless," she argues, halfheartedly.

"True," he solemnly agrees. "But hardly the craziest thing I've ever done."

Despite the lingering fear and anger over him so carelessly risking his life for her, she grins at him. "What, you mean like your short lived career in politics? Cause that was pretty crazy."

He groans miserably. "Don't remind me. I'm never taking advice from the house about my career ever again."

She chuckles at his expense. "You're much better at fighting fires than fighting the entire political system."

He flashes her half of a smile and nods. "That fight was more trouble than it was worth." He takes a deep hesitant breath and then continues. "So, are we good?"

"As long as you keep the cowboy heroics to a minimum, sure," she replies.

"I make no promises until CPD catches the bastard who ran you off the road," he admits through a tense jaw. "Until then, all bets are off."

"Casey…"

"I mean it. It's like I said, I have no intention of losing anyone else I care about," he declares.

"Yeah, well, neither do I. So, be prepared for me to lecture you every step of the way," Sylvie tells him earnestly.

He smirks and nods. "Fair enough."

She fights the sudden urge to kiss that smirk off of his face by taking a sip of her water. Now is definitely not the time, but, thanks to him, this is the most normal she's felt since her car was smashed into a guardrail. And normal means randomly feeling the urge to kiss Matt Casey while trying to build up a resistance to his stupid good guy charm. Her feelings for him were messy and complicated _before_ some asshole tried to kill her. They're even more complicated now.

Too complicated to act on. She's certain of it.

When the others get back she sends them away, telling them she's tired and wants to sleep. Really, she just needs more quiet to process the reality of the day. Hope is gone. Someone killed her. That same someone tried to kill her too, and they might come back to finish the job.

Until this is resolved nothing in her life will be the same.

She doesn't get much sleep.

Joe and Casey meet her at the hospital in the morning for her discharge. Cruz she expected to see, considering he's her roommate. But Matt is a pleasant surprise. He follows Joe to their place and then comes inside for a coffee and, apparently, cake pops as provided by Chloe.

"She was worried about you," Cruz tells her. "She plans to swing by later, if that's okay?"

"Absolutely," Sylvie assures him. "I'd love to see Chloe."

There's a knock on the door. When it sounds, Casey wordlessly moves closer to her — positioning himself between her and the front door. Joe checks the peephole on the door and visibly relaxes.

"It's the detective from yesterday," he announces as he opens the door.

The detective, who's last name she now knows is Spencer, smiles kindly at her as he steps inside the apartment.

"Glad to see you outside of the hospital, Ms. Brett," he says as Joe allows him inside. "I'm just here to let you know your uniformed detail has arrived. They're parked on the street, watching the building. I also have a few more questions for you. Shouldn't take long."

Sylvie moves to stand from her cozy spot on the couch but freezes when Casey and Joe send withering glares her way.

"Do you want to bust your stitches?" Joe asks her. "Sit, he'll come to you."

She rolls her eyes but concedes. Detective Spencer sits across from her on the edge of the coffee table.

"Were you acquainted with any of Hope's boyfriends?" He asks.

"No, not really. I lived back home for a few months over the summer and I worked at the Firehouse with a guy she was seeing, but I didn't actually know him," she answers.

He nods and scribbles down a note. "Do you remember his name?"

"No, I don't. Not for certain. I only met him a handful of times."

"Did Hope ever mention anyone else in her life?"

She flashes back to milkshakes in an old scuffed booth, stuttered apologies, and reluctant acceptance. That conversation never left her. It reminded her how little she knew Hope while she was living in Chicago.

"Yes, but never a name. Years ago, she lived in Chicago for a little while and she told me once that she came to Chicago to escape an abusive ex-boyfriend," Sylvie tells him. "But she never gave me any details."

"What?" Joe asks. "She never told us that."

"Well, when you're escaping a bad situation, you don't exactly want to broadcast why," she says as she turns to address Joe.

"You sound like you're speaking from experience," Detective Spencer says with a quirked brow.

"It wasn't quite the same, no. But I did run away from an ex back home," she says hesitantly. She didn't expect this to turn toward her.

"And his name?" Spencer asks.

The idea that someone was after her and not Hope sends a chill through her veins. Her anxiety increases. "Oh, no, you can't think—Harrison was overbearing and a little manipulative but he wasn't violent. I can't imagine he would—" Her words sound panicked and rushed. She can't stop them on her own which means she's immensely grateful for Matt's supportive hand on her back and the way it stills her spiraling emotions mid-sentence.

"He's just pursuing every lead, Sylvie. He's not making any accusations," Matt assures her. "It's okay."

She takes a deep breath and nods as she exhales. "Right. You're right." Her eyes meet Spencer's sympathetic ones and she winces. There she goes being an emotional basket case again. "I'm sorry."

"Your fears are totally understandable," Spencer states. "I'm just gathering all the facts right now. I don't want anything to fall through the cracks. That's all this is."

She bites her lip to keep her chin from quivering and forces a smile. "Of course."

"What's Harrison's last name?" Spencer asks.

"Williams," she answers, hoarsely.

"Thank you. That's all I need for now, but I'll be in touch," he promises as he scribbles down a few more notes. "You're perfectly safe, Sylvie. You've got Chicago's Finest outside _and inside_ your apartment. Not that I expect anything less from you Firehouse 51 folks. Scuttlebutt around town is all of you are tight—and a bit dramatic."

Sylvie laughs softly, but genuinely. "To paraphrase Taylor Swift, we don't love the drama, it loves _us_."

"I don't doubt it," Spencer agrees with a grin and a nod.

When the door closes behind him Sylvie sags back on the couch cushions and closes her eyes, trying to breathe through the lump in her throat.

"It can't be Harrison," she announces after a long stretch of silence. "I haven't spoken to him in five years. I mean, if he was going to try and hurt me then wouldn't he have done it already?"

"I don't think I know that whole story," Matt replies with a furrowed brow. "I remember some guy showing up at the firehouse a couple of times but I don't know that I ever got the full picture on that."

"Harrison is the douchebag that ditched Sylvie before their wedding and then when she got a clue and left he came here to try and strong arm her into going back to Fowlerton," Cruz blurts with angry narrowed eyes. He turns to Sylvie with a questioning expression. "Did I leave anything out?"

"Nope," Sylvie replies with a tired sigh. "You hit all the highlights. It wasn't quite that extreme, really. He wanted me to be this naive, helpless little girl — dependent on him for everything — and that's just not who I want to be. Life in Fowlerton, both times, was me playing the dutiful submissive June Cleaver type. Though, with Kyle, I did that to myself. I tried to make myself fit the life he wanted. He never asked me to do that — I just thought I'd given up so much to be with him that I had to make it work. But I should have known. I learned a long time ago that Chicago is my home. Not Indiana. Not sure what made me forget."

She's also not sure what prompted her to confess all of those thoughts out loud. Oh well, too late to take them back now.

"I'm glad you came back," Matt states as he pins her down with that patented sincere stare of his. "51 wasn't the same without you."

She ducks her head bashfully before answering him. "_Nothing_ was the same without everyone here. So, trust me, I get it."

"Yeah, and it's going to be weird again with you out on four weeks medical leave," Cruz says as he gets up and heads toward the kitchen, as if he's just said something totally inconsequential.

"Hold on, _what_?" Brett asks shrilly.

"Cruz," Casey scolds. "Boden was going to come by to talk to her about it _later_."

He grimaces with an apologetic scrunch of his shoulders. "Oops?"

"Four _weeks_?" Sylvie asks Matt in a raised voice.

"You have a fractured rib. You're a paramedic, you _know_ how long that needs for recovery," Casey explains tiredly. "It's four weeks _at minimum_."

She groans flops back on the couch. "What the hell am I supposed to do for _four weeks_?"

"Heal," Matt says flatly, as if the answer is obvious. "Besides, with whoever came after Hope still out there, it's probably best we keep you out of the field."

"Can you _not_ be logical right now?" Sylvie asks him. "I'm trying to pout."

Matt chuckles and nods. "Right. Pout away."

He sits back on the couch and crosses his arms over his chest. She feels a laugh bubble up in her throat and can't help but grin at him.

"You done?" He asks, teasingly.

"I guess," she replies before yawning. A wave of exhaustion hits her hard along with a flash of frustration. Why is she so tired? She hasn't done anything and it's still _morning_.

"You should get some rest," Matt suggests, standing from the couch.

"Why? I have four weeks to sleep. What's the rush?" She asks him with a huff followed by another yawn.

"Is she always like this?" Casey asks Cruz with a small grin.

"Pretty much," Joe answers with a laugh. "You've only seen reasonable Sylvie with the occasional appearance of bossy Sylvie. This is tired-and-grumpy Sylvie."

"No, this is tired-of-people-telling-me-what-to-do Sylvie," She interjects with a glare.

"Okay, fine," Matt says with a fond grin. "Let's make a deal."

"A deal?" She asks with a quirked brow. "I'm listening."

"If you actually rest, and I mean seriously _rest_, for four shifts. That's two weeks. I'll talk to Boden about putting you on light duty in the bullpen for the last two," Casey offers with a halfhearted stern glare.

"You mean it?" She asks warily.

"I don't offer deals I don't mean to follow through on," he tells her as he holds out a hand for a shake. "What do you say? Deal?"

She bites her bottom lip and contemplates her options. Two weeks of actual rest and two weeks of almost-work or four weeks of mind numbing boredom. Honestly, she thinks the offer is too generous to turn down.

She places her hand in his and he shakes it gingerly, careful not to jostle her ribs. Typical Matt Casey.

"Deal," she agrees.

"Okay," he says as he slowly releases her hand. "I'm gonna need a show of good faith."

Is it just her or did he look reluctant to let her go? Her hand tingles at the contact but she can't tell if it's the exhaustion or an actual sensation.

"What does that mean?" She asks with a furrowed brow.

He waves his hand in the direction of her bedroom and smirks at her. "That means you get some sleep right now with no further complaints."

She fights a yawn in one last show of childish stubborn determination before starting to push off the couch to stand. "Fine," she says. "I'm going."

Both Matt and Joe are at her side in an instant to help her up. She only understands why when she feels a slight twinge in her midsection. That probably wasn't her smartest move. Neither was flopping down on the couch the way she did earlier.

Matt releases a frustrated sigh when she winces in pain.

"You're going to be a terrible patient, aren't you?" He asks with a dry chuckle.

"Probably," she admits sheepishly. "I don't like letting other people take care of me." She pauses before adding under her breath. "Not anymore."

Her side aches again when she takes a step and this time it's a stabbing lingering pain. She tries to hide it but she's well aware that she fails. Matt steps up beside her and wraps an arm around her waist to help support her weight. The pressure his hold pulls off her ribs immediately makes a difference.

His lips are almost at her ear as he softly replies to her earlier statement. "A little bit of help when you need it isn't going to make you any less self sufficient. I promise."

She swallows down a rush of warm emotions that she can't seem to form words through and nods before meeting his clear blue gaze with her watery one. He has no idea how much she needed to hear that.

Matt walks her to her bedroom door and opens it for her. "Are you good from here or—"

"No, I'm—I'm good. Thank you," she says with a thick swallow. "I can handle it now. Really."

He nods once and then releases her waist. She misses his arm around her the minute he takes it back.

"Alright, well, I'm gonna go. Let you and Cruz have your apartment back. But if you don't actually sleep," he says with a teasing glare. "I'll hear about it."

She chuckles mutely and nods. "Understood."


	4. A Little Help

**A/N: **I can't sleep so you guys are getting another chapter. So, I know I shouldn't worry about it but this story is getting way less love than my last multichap and it's concerning me. I hope it's just that people were super busy with New Years and not that people don't like this story as much because I am SUPER excited about what's coming for this one. This story is gonna be equal parts fluff and angst and I can't wait for you guys to read it! Anyway, happy reading!

Hope you enjoy!

angellwings

* * *

CHAPTER FOUR

* * *

It's been three days since she came home from the hospital, and sleep has been elusive. She'll be fine for an hour or so but then she wakes up gasping and sweating — terrified by the growling of an engine and glaring glow of headlights. Nevermind that they aren't real and only exist in her memory. Her body and her mind are convinced otherwise.

Taking it easy around the apartment hasn't helped. Joe and Chloe won't let her do anything. She's going stir crazy. Having visitors doesn't fix the problem either. She's always been the type to occupy herself in times of stress. No one will let her do that now. Stupid fractured rib.

It also doesn't help that there's been no movement on the case. Spencer won't tell her anything. He says they're still trying to analyze evidence and track down a few of the leads she gave him. Her protective detail has stuck around. They make her feel trapped and paranoid. They should help her feel safe, but they don't.

In fact, the last time she felt truly safe was when Matt was here. He hasn't been back in three days and she has no idea why.

She comes out of her room that afternoon to find Joe and Chloe preparing a huge buffet of snacks. They're busily running around the kitchen preparing things like chicken wings, spinach dip, and, of course, cake pops. Chloe checks the time and announces it to Joe, who curses and then begins working twice as fast.

"What's going on?" Sylvie asks with a quirked brow.

"Well," Chloe says with a bright smile. "You've been understandably down lately so we thought we might have a little movie night and cheer you up!"

"Are we having a movie night for the entire Blackhawks team? I don't think the three of us need all of this food," Sylvie observes with a chuckle.

"It's not just the three of us," Joe says from the kitchen. "Severide, Kidd, Foster, and Casey are all coming. And you know how Stella is with wings. We wanted to be prepared."

She tries not to show increased interest at the sound of Matt's name, but she doesn't know if she succeeds. "Oh. Thanks, guys! That sounds fun. It'll be nice to hang out all together outside of the Firehouse or Molly's."

Joe and Chloe make her sit on the couch while they finish preparing food which she thinks is ridiculous. Maybe that's why she insists on answering the door even if getting up and down may aggravate her fracture. It'll be fine. She has prescribed pain killers if she needs them.

"Wow!" Stella says as she and Kelly walk through the door. "You look like death. Are you sleeping?"

Sylvie rolls her eyes and glares at Stella, playfully, as they hug. "Gee, thanks. That's exactly what I want to hear three days after getting out of the hospital."

"Hey, true friends stab you in the face," Kidd tells her with a warm smile and a shrug. "Do I smell wings?"

She heads to the kitchen, leaving Kelly and Brett alone.

"Don't listen to her," Severide says with a chuckle. "You look like exhaustion, not death." He bumps her shoulder teasingly. "That's better, right?"

"Yeah, totally better," she replies with a deadpan expression. "With friends like you guys, who needs critics?"

There's another knock at the door and Sylvie moves to answer it but Kelly stops her.

"Nope. Go sit down."

"Come on, you too? I'm injured, not useless," Sylvie exclaims in frustration.

"Sit. Rest," he says, ignoring her whining with a fond grin.

She huffs and returns to the couch. Four more weeks of this is going to be _awful_.

"Casey was right," Severide calls as she walks away. "You're a terrible patient."

Casey was talking about her? To Severide? Why? What did he say?

"Partner!"

Foster interrupts her thoughts with a tight but careful hug.

"God, am I ever glad to see you! They had me partnered with Choute! It was awful!"

Sylvie winces as she returns the hug. "The peppy guy from first shift?"

"Yes! It's unbearable!"

"At least he's not Chad," Cruz calls from the kitchen. "Could be worse."

Emily rolls her eyes and then leans toward Sylvie in a conspiratory whisper. "Heal quickly. I need you back."

"I'm working on it," she whispers in reply.

The door opens and closes again and she hears Kelly and Matt greeting each other. Foster notices that she's distracted and smirks at her.

"He spent the whole shift avoiding Choute," Foster tells her quietly. "And I don't think it was because Choute annoyed him with his personality. I think it was because he didn't want to be reminded you weren't coming in."

Sylvie gives Emily a dry glance and shakes her head. "I doubt that. Casey and I are just friends. Good friends, but...friends."

"Sure, you are," Emily replies with a disbelieving scoff. "Because Captain Casey defies Chief Boden's orders _all_ the time. For just about _anyone_."

"He would have jumped in that car for anyone at 51," Sylvie argues in a hushed whisper.

"Maybe," Emily concedes. "But would he have nearly panicked at the sight of our cars the way he did when he recognized yours?"

Sylvie narrows her eyes at Foster warily. "I doubt he panicked."

Emily quirks a brow and tilts her head. "If you don't believe me, ask Cruz. Casey recognized your car and then went running. I was there. I saw it."

Foster gives her a pointed look as Matt approaches and then quickly leaves Brett alone on the couch, just in time for Casey to reach her.

"Hey," he says as he takes Foster's former spot next to her. He pulls her in for a hug and then squints at her as he they pull away from each other. His eyes search her face. She knows he spots the dark circles under her eyes. Everyone else has. "You don't look rested."

She snorts in amusement. "Well, hello to you too, Matt."

He doesn't apologize or even look scolded. His stern gaze holds steady. "We had a deal."

She sighs hopelessly and nods. "I know. I'm trying. I really am."

His brow furrows and concern clouds his blue eyes. His lips part. A question hangs in the air between them, but just as he starts to ask they're interrupted.

"Alright," Joe says as he and Chloe take the other end of the couch. "Foods good to go. What are we watching?"

"This close to Christmas there's only one option," Severide says while he holds up a blu-ray case. "_Die Hard._"

"Or," Stella says as she gently pushes him down into a nearby armchair. "An actual Christmas movie."

"Uh, _Die Hard_ is a Christmas movie," Foster declares with a friendly glare aimed at Stella.

"No," Joe says as he wags a finger at her. "It's a movie that takes place at Christmas. Not a Christmas movie."

"Does it really matter? Are we watching it or not?" Chloe asks them with a chuckle and an exasperated face.

All eyes turn toward Brett and Casey, waiting for them to make the final decision.

The attention forces Casey's concerned gaze away from her and she releases a relieved breath. "Yeah," she answers with all the smile she can muster. "I'm okay with it."

"It's _Die Hard_," Matt states as if the answer is obvious. "Of course we're watching it."

Joe gets up and puts in the movie. While he's up, he grabs a blanket off the back of the couch and tosses it at Sylvie. He knows exactly how cold natured she is. Foster gets up while Sylvie wraps the blanket around her and when she comes back a few minutes later she's holding two plates of food. One for her and one for Sylvie. Sylvie laughs to herself as she accepts the plate. Her friends really are too much. She's hasn't been one to let other people take care of her in several years, but these people never give her a choice.

"Thank you," she says to Foster before she starts to eat the things on her plate.

"We got you, girl," Foster says as she situatates herself on the floor with throw pillows and a blanket.

Yes, she thinks. They do.

Come what may.

She meets Matt's eyes as the movie starts and he gives her a soft smile. For a moment, she thinks he's somehow read her thoughts and he's trying to reassure her. Then she remembers that's not possible and feels like a ridiculous sap. He can't read her mind. She's projecting her feelings on to him and with Matthew Casey that has the potential to be a dangerous mistake.

She drags her eyes away from him and studies her plate until the weight of his stare is gone. The last thing she needs right now is to get her hopes up about Matt. _Again_.

* * *

They're well into the movie and he still hasn't gotten up to get any food. He can't.

If he moves then Sylvie might wake up and, judging by how exhausted she looks, she's catching sleep that she desperately needs. It didn't take long after she ate for her to drift off. He had his arm around the back of the couch when it happened. Then she moved in her sleep. So, now her head is resting on his shoulder while the rest of her side is snuggled against him. Somehow, they've also ended up sharing her blanket. He likes the feeling of her burrowed into his side far too much.

She's breathing deeply and evenly, indicating peaceful sleep. He may be starving but he'll be damned if he's the one that messes this up for her.

She must not be getting much sleep. He wonders what's keeping her from sleeping. Is it the trauma or the uncertainty of the investigation? Or maybe she's just stir crazy from being cooped up in her apartment? Maybe if he'd worked up the nerve to visit over the last three days, he'd know.

He stayed away to try and get a grip on his emotions. He needs to remember Boden's words about Sylvie needing a friend more than anything else right now, but that's easier said than done. He came too close to losing her and it put a few things into perspective for him.

First, they don't have plenty of time. No one does. That doesn't mean he wants to rush into anything, but it certainly means he doesn't want to waste a single moment with her. Second, he could still lose her. The danger hasn't passed. Hope's killer is still out there. Third, thanks to him pushing her toward Kyle earlier in the year she has _no idea_ how he feels.

Each one of these things presents their own set of problems and complications. He distracted himself from the first and third things by spending the last three days hounding Spencer for progress on Hope's case. Halstead assured him that Spencer's reputation is solid, but Casey's not taking any chances. Not with Brett.

He's left numerous badgering voicemails for the detective that have all been ignored. To be honest, he doesn't blame the guy for ignoring him. He knows he's being obsessive and annoying. He simply doesn't care.

Sylvie tenses next to him and brings him back to the present. Her breathing sounds the tiniest bit labored and his brows knit together with a concerned gaze down at her. While he watches over her, she jolts awake with a sharp intake of air. At first, he doesn't think anything of it. He's woken up with a start before. Especially when sitting up or during a late game on television. It could have been a noise from the movie or maybe the sensation of falling. None of those things are uncommon.

But then her eyes meet his in the dim light.

Pain and terror is written all over her pale face.

No noise from the movie did that.

She glances around frantically. He thinks she's looking to see if anyone noticed.

No one did. Except for him.

He brings his arm down from the back of the couch to wrap it around her. His hand squeezes her shoulder and, as he hoped she would, she looks up at him again. He nods toward the kitchen, hoping to find a private moment with her. He was worried earlier in the evening and now that worry is back tenfold. She nods and reaches for her empty plate on the coffee table.

He stands first — so he can offer her a hand up to keep her from putting too much strain on her abdomen. The only person to notice their sudden movement is Foster. She must notice Sylvie's shellshocked face too because she trades a concerned look with him but doesn't draw attention to the two of them.

They ease their way out of the living room and into the far corner of the kitchen. He picks up a plate and tries to look as though he's finally preparing himself a plate.

"You okay?" He asks her quietly.

She takes a shaky breath in and out. "Yes—No. I—I don't know. I haven't been able to sleep for more than a few hours at a time. I've been hoping it'll just go away."

He has a feeling he knows what she's implying, but he asks anyway. "Hoping what will go away?"

She shakes her head at him. Her eyes slowly turn red and raw as water gathers in them. She closes her eyes tightly and turns her back toward the living room, and subsequently their friends. She rubs a hand over her face as her expression crumples. Try as she might, she can't seem to find enough words to reply to his question. And then she's crying in the middle of the kitchen with their friends just a few feet away.

He takes her free hand in his and silently leads her down the hall to her bedroom door. He doesn't stop until her door is shut behind them. Once they're alone, he wraps both arms around her and pulls her into his chest. His heart is breaking on her behalf. He wishes there was a way he could take all of it on for her. But he can't. All he can do is be there for her while she deals with the aftermath.

Her arms coil around him tightly in return and she buries her face in his neck. He feels hot tears forming a wet spot on his shirt. She doesn't deserve any of this. He hates the helpless feeling that's sitting in his stomach like a ball of lead.

She finally calms down enough to speak and when she does she confirms his suspicions.

"I keep hearing the sounds of the bumper hitting my car and seeing headlights right in my face and..._screaming_. There's so much screaming. It keeps replaying night after night, Matt. I don't—I can't make it stop."

"I can't even imagine, Sylvie. I'm so sorry," he replies as his own eyes water. He rubs her back consolingly and then arches back from her to lock her gaze with his. "Have you thought about talking to someone about it?"

She forces an overly saccharine smile before she answers him. "I'm talking to you."

Despite the emotions still pooling in his eyes, his stare turns flat and a wry grin forms on his face. "You know what I mean."

"This, coming from the guy who didn't even want to talk to our Chaplain several months ago," she says with a tearful teasing laugh.

"Fair point, but I feel the need to remind you that _you_ were the one to tell me to talk to someone. You were right. The minute I did, it helped," he confesses. "You can talk to me. You can always talk to me, but I don't know if just talking to me will be enough."

She goes quiet but doesn't look away from him. He sees fear and anxiety flash across her face and decides to keep talking.

"Even grief counseling might help," he adds. "You've been through a real trauma. I know you and Hope had your issues but she was still a friend. No one would blame you if you need a little help shouldering that. _No one_."

"I just want to get through this and go back to work," she replies, looking frustrated with herself.

"You will," he assures her. "You're one of the strongest people I know. I have no doubt that you'll be back in the ambo in exactly four weeks from now."

She flashes him a weak smile and then nods. "Okay, fine. I'll look into it."

"That's all I ask," he replies, satisfied.


	5. As a Precaution

**A/N: **Hello! Thank you so much for the response to the last chapter! It made my week! I am now writing chapter 10 of this story so to celebrate I'm posting again. What's coming up in chapter 8 is gonna be the start of some fluffy fun stuff so keep an eye out for those chapters coming soon. ;) Thanks, as always, to **katertots **for listening to me about ideas and always helping me sort them out!

Happy reading!

angellwings

* * *

CHAPTER FIVE

* * *

Shift ended a few minutes ago. Before it did Joe got a phone call from Sylvie. What Matt heard of the conversation, before Joe walked out of the bunk room, did not sound good. Matt heads to the locker room to change and as he's finishing up Joe comes storming into the room.

"Bastards," he curses as he yanks his locker door open.

"Something wrong, Cruz?" Matt asks.

"Yeah," he snaps. "PD is pulling Sylvie's detail because their leads have gone cold and they can't spare the patrol officers any more. This guy is still out there and they're leaving Brett unprotected."

"What?" Matt asks in outrage. "The case is still open, right?"

"Yeah, for now. Spencer's still working it but he said he couldn't get the bosses to sign off on using the manpower to watch Sylvie when this guy who might be after her hasn't made a move in over a week."

"That makes no sense," Matt says as he tries to process that logic. "She can't keep a protective detail because they've managed to successfully protect her since the accident?"

"Basically," Joe says with a huff. "It's bullshit.''

"And Spencer is just letting this happen?" Matt asks as his anger starts to build. "Isn't it his job to keep her safe while he investigates?"

"Sylvie said that he told her his hands were tied," Joe informs him while shaking his head.

"Or he's too lazy to move his ass and get it done," Casey says, scoffing. "You think Trudy could arrange a detail?"

"Maybe," Joe answers, though he looks doubtful. "I'll talk to Mouch."

Matt makes a few phone calls of his own once he makes it back to his place. Each call ends with the same response. The officers are needed elsewhere and there doesn't seem to be any immediate danger to Brett. He's so furious by the time he's tapped out his resources that he thinks he may actually start breathing fire.

They cannot leave Sylvie unprotected when they're no closer to catching this guy than they were a week ago. He calls Spencer again and, as usual, receives no answer. He leaves a heated voicemail that treads the line of professional. He manages to control himself enough not to cross it, but just barely.

Fine, if CPD won't look out for Brett then _he_ will.

He races over to her apartment — maybe blowing through a stop sign or two. It's only a few minutes until he's knocking on her door. He hears footsteps and then a lengthy pause. He assumes it's a pause so she can look through the peephole in the door and determine who's on the other side. Finally, she opens it with a bewildered expression.

"Matt? Did I know you were coming over?"

"Are you here alone?" He asks as he cranes his neck to look over her shoulder, into the apartment. "Where's Cruz?"

"Cruz and Mouch were going to the District to talk to Trudy about something or other," she tells him.

Probably trying to get her a new detail. "Ah, good."

"Are you okay?" She asks him with narrowed eyes. "You seem...tense."

"There's no detail outside the apartment," he answers. Surely, that will explain everything to her. His attitude, his sudden appearance...all of it.

If her slow nod is any indication, it does. She steps aside and lets him in before speaking. "Joe told you."

"Yeah, he did and it's ridiculous. You're a sitting duck here," he tells her. "You _and_ Joe."

She shuts and locks the door and then walks further into the apartment. She gives him an expectant look when he doesn't immediately follow. She leads him into her bedroom and he has to do a double take to make sure he's seeing what he thinks he's seeing.

She's packing. There's a small suitcase on the bed and clothes thrown about everywhere.

"Are you leaving?" He asks, appalled by the obvious disappointment he hears in his own voice.

She nods. "Just to Fowlerton for the weekend. I'll be back Sunday."

"Wait. Back up. You're leaving town to go back to your hometown, _by yourself_, when the guy that came after you and Hope could be her abusive ex-boyfriend that for all we know _still lives_ in Fowlerton. Did I get all of that right?" He asks — part angry and part confused.

The understanding look she'd given him earlier hardens. Her tone sounds impatient and clipped. "Tomorrow is Hope's funeral, Casey. I'm not missing it. My parents are out of town so I'm staying at their place tonight through Sunday and then I'll be back. Fowlerton is perfectly safe. Nothing ever happens there. Trust me."

He does trust her but no way in hell is he trusting this situation.

"You're not going alone," he declares.

"Excuse me?" She asks, lifting her brows and then giving him a lethal scowl.

Okay, maybe he should have phrased that differently. Try again.

"I'm not letting you go to the place where the killer might _live_ without back up, Sylvie."

He winces internally as the words fall off his lips. Nope. That's not any better.

She laughs bitterly and rolls her eyes. "_Letting_ me? You don't _let_ me do anything, Casey."

He huffs in frustration and runs a hand through his hair. "I'm not—I don't mean—look, everything is coming out wrong. I just mean going by yourself is an unnecessary risk. Especially, now that you don't have a detail. So, maybe, you could consider letting me go with you. Just...as a precaution."

Her glare relaxes and she looks away from him to finish folding a top. He can tell she's considering it so he tries to further his case.

"I can drive. You know riding with me is better than whatever awkward rideshare you were going to use. Plus, wouldn't you like to have a little moral support at the funeral? I'm pretty good at that," he says as he offers her an apologetic smile.

"When you want to be," she fires back with a slight grin. A sigh of resignation fills the air around them as she finally replies. "Okay. But if you try to order me around again, I'm sending you home. I don't need that."

He holds his hands up in surrender. "I promise. No orders. And I'm sorry. I shouldn't have spoken to you like that. Won't happen again."

The front door opens and slams. Both he and Sylvie walk toward the sound. Cruz throws his bag down on the couch and looks up in surprise when he spots Matt.

"I was just going to call you," Cruz says with stare full of pent up anger. "Can I talk to you outside for a second?"

"This is about me, isn't it?" Sylvie asks with a knowing quirked brow.

"Not exactly," Cruz says with wincing smile. "But sort of."

"Whatever," she replies with a tired laugh. "You two macho idiots figure it out. I have to finish packing." Her voice is full of begrudging affection as she gives him pointed glance. "If you're coming then you need to go home and pack. We're leaving in an hour."

He nods. "I'll be here and I'll be ready."

"You better be," she warns as she walks back into her room.

He can tell she's still pissed but at least she's talking to him. They'll have time to really sort it out on the drive to her hometown. He fights his urge to put off Cruz and finish setting things right with Sylvie. Obviously Joe has something pressing to talk about.

"So?" Matt asks. "What did Trudy say?"

He shakes his head. "It's a no-go. But Mouch did get her to give us a little more information on Spencer's investigation. They found the ex-boyfriend Sylvie mentioned and his last known address _is_ in Chicago. But they can't locate him. They think he skipped town. And _that's_ why they don't think she's in any immediate danger. He's their only suspect. They apparently cleared Harrison. He has an alibi."

"So, they're convinced it was this one guy?" Matt asks.

Joe nods. "Yeah, they're all set to arrest him once they find him."

"I don't like that he's just out there in the wind somewhere and knows exactly where to find the two of you," Casey admits as he turns to stare distractedly at Brett's closed bedroom door. Worry still sits in his gut and it probably will until this is all over. "I've got to go pack. I'll update the Chief while I'm out and then I'll be back to pick her up."

"You convinced her not to go alone?" Cruz asks with an impressed glance. "I've been trying to do that all week and all I get are pats on the arm and patronizing smiles."

Matt shrugs at that. If he's honest, he doesn't really understand how he managed it either. "Not sure what I said because I pretty much said all the wrong things, but I'm not going to ask. I don't want her to change her mind."

* * *

Let her? He won't _let her_ go? Where the hell does Matt Casey get off?

But then...if she's honest with herself the idea of being alone for an entire weekend _terrifies_ her and standing all alone at Hope's funeral makes her want to hibernate for the rest of the season. Avoid it all. Her life is a huge fucking mess right now anyway. It's not like she'd be missing much.

You know, if she could sleep without reliving Hope's death. Which seems highly unlikely.

Still, her not truly wanting to be alone doesn't mean he has the right to order her around. She let Harrison do that once upon a time and she vowed _never_ _again_ after she left him. Not even Matt Casey gets a pass on that.

Exactly one hour later Matt shows up at her door, as promised. She follows him to the truck and then they're off. Stuck together with only the radio to act as a buffer. She scans stations as long as possible before it's clear she's cycled through all of them, and then not even the radio can keep the awkward silence at bay.

"Hey, listen," Matt says quietly. He briefly moves his eyes away from the road to meet hers. "I'm sorry about earlier when I busted in on you and then tried to tell you how to live your life. It's not my place. I know it's no excuse but I was just...worried. Still am, if I'm honest."

She sighs at the genuine apology in his eyes. She can't stay mad at him when he targets her with that sincere stare of his.

"Don't let this go to your head or anything," Sylvie replies with a wan smile. "But you weren't wrong. Going alone isn't safe — physically or emotionally. I'm annoyed at how you handled it but...I'm actually relieved you invited yourself."

He nods and she can actually see the tension in his shoulders ease.

"So then you're not pissed at me anymore?" He asks hesitantly.

"Pissed? No. Annoyed? Yeah, just a little. But I'm working on it. I'm sure that will fade," she assures him with a small teasing smirk. "Eventually."

"So, are you...sleeping any better?" His question is cautious and, though she hides it, it amuses her. He knows he's treading on thin ice.

"I met with a psychiatrist this week, actually. She prescribed sleeping pills, but I only take them if I wake up from a nightmare," she replies honestly. He's the one who urged her to see someone so she feels like he deserves to know. "The very concept of sleeping pills make me nervous."

"Can't say I blame you for that," Matt sympathizes.

"I know it'll take several more sessions before I really start to see any difference but it's frustrating. I just want to forget it and move on, you know?"

"I know, but maybe—maybe you keep dreaming about the crash for a reason. Maybe you're trying to remember something?" Matt suggests.

"Maybe, I did remember one new detail after last night's nightmare," she informs him nervously. "I didn't call Spencer because it's small and generic, but if I can recall that then why not more?"

He nods. "Exactly. What if your mind isn't trying to scare you? What if it's trying to help you?"

"Well, then it's doing a piss poor job of it," she retorts with a derisive snort.

A sudden hopeless feeling envelopes her and she begins to wonder if this is going to be her life now. Terrifying dreams, fuzzy memories, a killer who gets off easy because she can't identify him…

No, it can't be. She can't grapple with that for the rest of her life. She would never survive it.

"Hey," Matt states loudly. He waits until he knows her attention is on him before he continues. "It'll get better, Sylvie. It really will."

How did he know that she—he can't know what she was thinking, can he? Were her thoughts that easy to read in her expression? Yes, she thinks, probably so. She can't keep a secret to save her life and that includes disguising her emotions, which she obviously has no talent for.

She doesn't speak in response. She merely gives him a beseeching glance. Silently, she begs him to reassure her just one more time.

He nods with a solemn but determined expression. "It will. I've lost important people too, and I'm still standing. If I can do it then you definitely can."

She's not entirely sure why, but his words offer her strength. They give her back a little slice of good faith. Sure, right now she feels pretty broken, but Matt genuinely makes her believe that won't always be the case.

She'll heal. She just needs to give it time.


	6. Ease Your Mind

**A/N:** IT'S CHICAGO NIGHT, you guys! I am so beyond excited. If you'd like to know how much of a nerd I am: I will be wearing my Molly's shirt tonight and drinking out of my Fightin' 81 mug live tweeting during the commercial breaks, lol. Find me at angellwings on twitter and you'll see my true fangirl self tonight, haha.

Anyway...HAPPY READING!

angellwings

* * *

CHAPTER SIX

* * *

It's still fairly early when they pull up to her parents' house. Sylvie actually lets him help her out of his truck. He takes that as a good sign. She's moving easier just one week after the accident, but she's far from healed. He's glad to see her being irritated with him didn't make her too stubborn to accept his help when she might need it.

He grabs their bags out of the back while she unlocks the door. He's then lead to the guest room which is across the hall from Sylvie's childhood room. He puts his bag inside his door and then knocks on the open doorframe to wait for permission to bring hers inside.

"Just put it wherever," she says with a dismissive wave.

The room is painted a light shade of pink, with a full size canopy bed in the far corner. It's draped in a pink gauzy fabric. The walls are covered in posters of movies he recognizes but has never actually watched. Then he turns as he puts down her bag and the other half of the room is crowded with a treadmill and a stationary bike.

"My room is soon to be a gym," she states with a dry chuckle. "Nothing says 'welcome home' like we're putting all your childhood memories in storage."

He's not really sure what to say to that. He hasn't had a childhood bedroom since—well, best not to think about _that_ at the moment. Instead, he allows himself to snoop. Just a little. There's a bulletin board covered in old photos and programs from school plays and choral concerts. A few certificates for perfect attendance. The photos are of a thin almost gangly looking Sylvie. Who's limbs are just a tad too long for her body. Still, though, she was cute and that phase didn't appear to last long. He spots Hope in almost all the photos along with a dark haired boy, who seems to always have a possessive arm around Sylvie's waist.

"So, this is the Sylvie Brett I never got to meet, huh?" He asks with a teasing grin. "She looks adorable."

Sylvie blushes in mortification and wraps a hand around his wrist to pull him away. "Don't look at those. God, I was a dork. Still am."

"Who's the guy?" He asks, a fond smiles taking over his face. "You two looked pretty serious."

She hesitates and looks regretful but meets his eyes with a weak lopsided smile. "Oh, um, that's Harrison."

"_That's_ Harrison?" Matt asks as he turns back to get another look at him. "Yeah, okay, now I see it."

Her face pinches in confusion. "See what?"

"The early traces of a manipulative douchebag," Matt states plainly. "Couldn't see it past the braces and bowl cut at first. But now I do."

Sylvie lets out a short bark of surprised laughter and then tries to bite back a smile. "The bowl cut was pretty horrendous."

"The guy was definitely dating up," Matt assures her.

She looks away from him and starts to unpack, but he doesn't miss the pleased closed lip smile on her face.

"So, what should we do about dinner?"

"Pizza for delivery is fine with me. I don't want to go anywhere I might run into someone I know," she answers with a tired sigh. "They'll want to talk about Hope and that's going to be hard enough _tomorrow_. I'm not emotionally prepared for that tonight."

"Okay, that's settled then. Just tell me what you want and where to order from. I'll take care of it," he promises. "My treat."

She's been talking to him and laughing but he can still feel her underlying anxiety. He'll do anything he can to ease that for her. She'll have to face it tomorrow but for tonight...he's happy to be her distraction.

They order pizza from the only non-franchise establishment in town, which he discovers makes a damn good pizza. It's not Chicago style deep dish, but it'll certainly do.

After dinner, Sylvie finds a puzzle mixed in with her family's board games and starts to assemble it on the dining room table. He tries to help, but when he reaches for an edge piece she lightly slaps the back of his hand.

"Hey! No," she says with a playful glare. "Corners first. Then the sides. After that we sort the pieces by color and pattern, _then _we start on the middle."

His eyebrows shoot upward and he takes a step back from the table with his palms held out in front of him in a gesture of surrender. "Sorry, wasn't aware of the rules."

Her eyes cut to his with thinly veiled amusement that totally undermines her stern features. "There's a right way to do puzzles and a wrong way. I can't help that everyone else does them the wrong way."

"And now I understand why we rarely do puzzles at the Firehouse," Matt quips with a snicker. "I don't think 51 will ever be ready for this side of you."

"Oh, but you are?" She asks with a challenging grin.

"Bring it on, Brett. I can puzzle it out with the best of them."

Her face breaks out into a smile as she laughs and shakes her head. He could be wrong, but he's pretty certain the sight off her smile makes his heart beat a little irregularly.

She's still chuckling when she speaks. "Puzzle it out? Really, Matt?"

There's something about successfully making her happy that causes him to feel an insane sense of pride. It naturally puffs up his chest and instills more confidence in himself than he's felt all day. It's ridiculous how _good_ her laughter and smiles make him feel.

He can see himself easily becoming addicted to that feeling — _to her_.

It's as terrifying as it is exciting.

* * *

They spend the rest of the night eating and working on the puzzle. Matt purposefully drives her crazy by trying to fit completely opposite pieces together. She laughs more than she has in a week and it's all because of him. She may have been doubtful of bringing him along at first but now she can't imagine this trip without him.

Now the night's winding down and sleep awaits her. No, not sleep. Nightmares. But maybe Matt was right earlier. Maybe it's not about the fear. Maybe it's about her memory.

She knows Matt feels her hesitance to go to bed. She can see the empathy on his face, but they both know there's not much he can do to make it better.

"I'm across the hall if you need me," he reminds her with an encouraging half-grin as they say goodnight.

"I know," she replies. But she already knows she won't wake him.

This is her problem. She has to face it.

Several hours later she sits straight up in bed, sweaty and unbalanced with a twinge in her ribs, and knows any attempts at sleep are over. She puts on thick socks, grabs a blanket off the back of the couch, and then goes to sit at the outdoor table on the back porch. It's cold but the air is clear and the sky is open. It feels freeing.

The nightmare was different this time. It was still terrifying but it was more in focus. Easier to see. That was a gift and a curse all at once. She's not sure how to feel about it.

"Sylvie?"

She turns at the voice and finds Matt watching her with a troubled expression as he stands in the open sliding glass doorway.

She meets his eyes and lets him read her emotions on her face. She's too tired to shield herself right now. "Hey, Matt."

"Everything okay?" He asks.

He's wearing sweats and a t-shirt and has bare feet. His face looks a little sleepy which makes his distress at finding her awake all the more endearing. She's seen him in every kind of light through the years. Morning light, daylight, moonlight, predawn glow, and even the unattractive fluorescent lighting in the Firehouse. It's an unavoidable result of the close quarters their jobs create. But she's never seen him quite like this. It goes beyond casual. She's not quite sure if there's a word that really describes it, except maybe _intimate_.

Sleepy Matt in worn sweats and a paint splattered t-shirt with no socks is a far cry from Captain Casey in his crisp white Captain's shirt and professional slacks with a clipboard in hand. She likes both, but she thinks she values the Matt standing in front of her a little more than Captain Casey — if only for the rarity of him.

Aside from the crinkle in between his brows, he looks comfortable and confident. Somehow those things soothe a bit of her anxiety.

And he's yet to even take a single step over the threshold of the door.

"Can't sleep," she replies simply.

"The crash again?" He asks knowingly.

She nods and meets his eyes. They're much more alert now. His stare holds hers for a long moment. She can see him thinking but she can't tell what he's thinking.

He holds up his pointer finger and clears his throat. "Hold on."

He walks away and shuts the door. She busies herself with repositioning her body in her chair. She tucks her socked feet under her for warmth and wraps her blanket tighter around her oversized sweater and leggings. She's created a cozy bubble in the midst of the chilly night air. The only thing that might make this perfect is a mug of something warm.

The door opens who knows how many minutes later and Casey steps out onto the porch. He's put on a coat, hat and thick wool socks. In his hands are two steaming mugs. He hands one to her before he shuts the sliding door.

She accepts the drink eagerly and takes a big sniff. Cider. He found apple cider.

"Thank you," she says as he takes the empty chair next to hers.

"You sure you don't want a coat?" He asks as he sweeps an assessing gaze over her.

"I'm good," she replies with a kind smile. "This sweater is warmer than it looks."

His expression is doubtful and after a beat he sets his mug aside, pulls the hat off of his head, and places it on hers. He tugs it down to make sure it covers her ears. His hands brush her shoulders as he pulls them away. "At least wear a hat," he says.

She chuckles softly and nods. "Thanks."

Silence overtakes them again. Sylvie can sense he's waiting her out. He's in no rush for her to talk. He knows she will eventually. Surprisingly, the fact that he's not trying to pull words out of her makes her want to talk.

"I think you're right about my nightmares not being about the fear," she tells him. "I think I'm trying to remember."

His gaze stays glued to her face as he replies. "And have you?"

She lets out an apprehensive sigh and nods. "Just a couple of small things."

"Nothing you remember from that day can be small, Sylvie. Any detail could be an important detail," he assures her.

"Oh yeah? Is it important that he was wearing a red ballcap? Or that it had a logo on it I can't quite make out? Or maybe it'll help the investigation to know he broke the back driver's side window with his bare left hand and cut himself." She breathes through the fresh wave and panic and tears until the sting fades. "What does it matter? None of that will help them find him, right? It won't get my protective detail back. So, I'm reliving it all for details that won't make a difference. I just...I want to forget. I'm done trying to remember. It's not worth it."

"Trust me, Sylvie, I understand wanting to forget. But you never know what might be important to the investigation," he says as he purposefully leans into her line of sight. "You should call Spencer. Tell him what you know. I think it might help. Maybe ease your mind a little."

"Do you really think so?" She asks in an uncertain voice.

"I do," he answers but then he shrugs before offering her a disclaimer. "But that doesn't mean I'm right."

She lets her eyes linger on his face. He looks so sincere and hopeful. He honestly believes talking to the detective might help. For all she knows, he could be right.

She worries her bottom lip with a nod. "I'll call him after the funeral. I don't think he'd appreciate it very much if I called him at dark o'clock in the morning."

Matt lets out a short chuckle. "Probably not. Are you going to try to go back to sleep?"

"I'm afraid to," she confesses softly.

He takes a deep breath and nods decisively. "Okay, then we need something a little more caffeinated than cider."

"We?" She asks in surprise.

"If you're staying up then I'm staying up too," he insists. "We'll just go ahead and start the day. Beginning with a fresh pot of coffee and breakfast."

"Casey, you don't have to—"

"I _want_ to," he says, cutting off her protests. "Really."

A smile forms on her face and widens at his insistence. She should feel guilty, but all she feels is grateful. "Alright, then we're making pancakes."

He smirks at her with an amused expression then stands with his mug in one hand and his other outstretched. "Pancakes it is."

She accepts his hand, allowing him to help her stand. She hates her fractured rib most of the time, but she can't say she minds having an excuse to put her hand in his. It sucks that she can't sleep but if she has to be awake then she's glad to be awake with Matt.


	7. Promise Me

**A/N: **I usually wait till I finish writing a chapter to post another one, but today was a weird & stressful real life day and I felt like posting even though I'm still working on chapter 11. Enjoy!

Happy reading!

angellwings

* * *

CHAPTER SEVEN

* * *

Casey keeps his eyes peeled for anyone suspicious or anyone Hope's family reacts to negatively. So far there's only one suspect in Hope's murder and that suspect is known to her parents as an ex-boyfriend. If he shows up, Matt plans to keep him as far away from Sylvie as possible.

Though, last he checked, CPD's theory was that he skipped town and had every intention of staying gone. Either that or he was laying low, hoping CPD would call off the manhunt.

The entire firehouse had been on edge in light of Brett's protective detail being cancelled. After last shift, when Casey went to update Boden on the details of the case Cruz and Mouch got out of Trudy, he found Severide and Herrmann already at the Chief's house discussing the situation and what to do.

The loss of Sylvie's ID put not just her but Cruz at risk too. They can't exactly tell either of them what to do but he's almost certain Sylvie and Cruz will listen to a suggestion from their chief. They're both reasonable people and Sylvie seems pretty spooked by the whole predicament.

The decision has been made to urge them to stay somewhere else for however long it takes PD to work the case. He's supposed to bring her to the Firehouse at the start of Sunday's shift. He's pretty sure she won't be happy about it, but he'll take the brunt of Brett's annoyance if it means she's safe.

The image of her car smashed against a guardrail invades his mind. He blinks it away and then seeks her out as reassurance. If Brett had been in the passenger seat instead, this funeral might have been hers. He needs his eyes on her to quell the panic caused by bad memories.

She's chatting with Hope's parents, her arms tucked tightly around herself, and her eyes red and swollen. She was quiet during the funeral — retreating inward. He can't bring himself to blame her for that. Plus, he wasn't exactly supposed to tag along to begin with and he knows the way he inserted himself into her plans rankled her initially.

But whoever killed Hope, and nearly Brett, is still out there and might have come to her funeral. No way in _hell_ was Sylvie coming to this alone.

He thinks the tension from their argument the day before has been worked out, but he doesn't know for sure. She confided in him this morning and seemed lighter as they made breakfast. The closer the funeral was, though, the quieter she became.

As he steps closer to her, he can make out what's being said. He holds in a wince and fights the urge to interrupt. He has a feeling Sylvie's conversation with Hope's mother is going to dredge up a few darker emotions. Even though he knows it's impossible, he wishes he could spare her that hurt.

"You have no idea how much your friendship meant to Hope. She was so happy that the two of you patched things up."

Sylvie must sense his presence because she looks between Hope's mother and him with a guilty expression. The older woman suddenly pulls Brett into a tight hug and from his position he can see the pain on Sylvie's face clear as day.

He knows she's thinking of the conversation they had about Hope just before the accident and how she was planning to break ties with her. That conversation from last week doesn't match up with the one she's involved in now.

"I—I wish I could have done more for her," Sylvie replies with a sniffle.

He doesn't doubt that's true, but he hates she feels any tiny bit of guilt over Hope.

Hope's mother pulls out of the hug and frames Sylvie's face with her hands. "Oh, honey, you did. You survived that wreck. That's what she would have wanted."

That's all anyone would want, Casey thinks. The _world_ needs Sylvie Brett out there trying to save it. It would be a much darker place without her.

Brett says her goodbyes to Hope's mother and then joins him to walk back to his truck.

"You okay?" He asks, knowing she isn't.

"That could have been me, Casey," she tells him with a distracted expression. "If he ran me off the road from the other side or if I'd hit the guardrail from a different angle—"

"But it wasn't you. It was never meant to be you," Casey says, cutting her off. He stops walking and places his hands on her shoulders. "Do you remember when I had that bad call where I was shot at? Had a gun pointed straight at my face?"

She swallows thickly and nods. "Hard to forget."

"Afterward, I talked to Boden. I'm going to tell you what he told me. It wasn't you because it wasn't your time. You're meant to be on this path you're currently on," he says, meeting her eyes as he gives her shoulders a comforting squeeze. "And that path hasn't ended yet."

She nods, wordlessly, and looks contemplative as they start walking again. Once they're inside his truck, she turns to him with a pleading expression. "Can we make a quick stop before we head to the house?"

"Sure," he replies quickly. "Where to?"

To say he's surprised when she directs him to a small town diner, that obviously hasn't been remodeled in decades, is an understatement.

"I want to show you something and I thought we'd grab lunch while we're at it," she explains with a hesitant smile. "Is that okay?"

He cuts the engine and gestures to her passenger side door. "Lead the way."

Someone greets Sylvie by name as they walk through the door. She waves and flashes a weak smile.

"Small town," she tells him. Then she points to a particular booth. "Here. This what I wanted to show you."

"A booth in a diner?" He asks in confusion.

She grins slightly and then sits. She motions for him to follow her lead and, once he sits, she elaborates. "Not the whole booth just what's underneath the table."

She jerks her head down toward the table and then bends sideways until she disappears from view. He mimics her and finds her gliding her finger over a pair of messy names scratched into the wood. He reads them with some difficulty since they're upside down. Once he does, recognition dawns.

"Let me guess, you and Hope had a regular booth?"

The small smile that stretches over her lips reaches her eyes, and he's relieved to see something positive in her expression. Every time she's smiled or laughed in the last week has released a bit of heart aching pressure in his chest. She's healing, physically and emotionally.

"In high school, we'd come here for milkshakes." They both return to sitting upright and Sylvie meets his eyes. "I thought I'd have a milkshake before we go home. For Hope. She and I had a few serious issues and we hadn't really been friends for a long time, but this place...it's home to all my _good_ memories of her. That deserves honoring, I think."

He doesn't get a chance to share his opinion right away. The waitress stops by the table and she and Sylvie start to chat. After they order lunch, the waitress immediately asks them about dessert.

"Milkshakes?" She asks as she looks between them both.

"I'll take one for sure," Sylvie answers.

"Strawberry?" The waitress guesses knowingly. Brett nods with a small smile. She turns to Matt. "And you?"

"Um, yeah, okay. Chocolate for me, thanks."

"Got it. I'll be back with your food and your shakes later, then."

When he turns to Sylvie again, he finds her smile brighter and bigger than he's seen it all day.

"Thank you," Sylvie tells him earnestly. "For coming with me this weekend. For stopping in here. Just—well, the entire last week actually."

"Thank me by staying cautious until CPD gives you the all clear," he requests softly.

The look she gives him is exasperated but affectionate. "Yeah, sure."

"I mean it," he insists. "Promise me?"

"You mean like that time you promised me that you would change your bandage and then didn't?" She asks him with an arched eyebrow and a smirk.

"I did. _Eventually_," he replies in defense of himself.

She chuckles dryly and shakes her head at him.

He flashes her a crooked grin before shifting it into a somber glance. "Seriously though, Sylvie, the bastard who came after Hope is still out there. He has your address and there's no longer any cops keeping an eye on you. You have to promise that you won't try and come to things like this by yourself until they get him. That would be thank you enough."

A resigned sigh escapes her. She nods as she speaks. "You're right. I know you're right. I just...what if they never find him? I mean, am I supposed to live the rest of my life in fear?"

A throat clears next to their table and Sylvie jumps out of her skin. Matt can't help but shoot a glare at the newcomer. He knows it's not their fault but they picked probably the worst moment to approach them. His glare eases, though, when he turns and finds a firefighter — fully decked out in turnout gear with a radio on his shoulder.

"Sorry!" The man says urgently, holding his hands up in surrender. "I'm sorry, I really wasn't trying to scare you. Are you Sylvie Brett, by chance?"

Sylvie nods while she catches her breath. "I am. I'm sorry. Have we met?"

He gives them a wan smile and shakes his head. "No, but I've heard a lot about you...from Hope."

Sylvie's eyes flash in recognition and she stands quickly for a handshake. "Oh! You're the boyfriend! I'm sorry. I don't remember your name."

"Jordan," he answers as he accepts her hand.

"Jordan," she repeats before motioning across the table. "This is my friend, Matt."

Matt nods and gives him a small wave.

"I am so sorry about Hope," Sylvie tells him with an emotional gulp.

"Me too," he concurs with a mournful sigh. "I saw you come in here and I had to...well, Hope wasn't the only person in that accident. I just wanted to make sure—I mean Hope would want me to check—" He cuts off his rambling and shakes himself with a thick swallow. "How are you doing? Are you okay?"

"Just taking it day by day," she says honestly. "You?"

He nods and blinks through the glassy shine to his eyes. "The same. I mean, what else can I do?"

Sylvie reaches out and squeezes his shoulder consolingly. Reminding her of the gear he's decked out in. "Were you on shift during the funeral?"

"Yeah," he answers. "But the Chaplain made sure the Chief gave me time to attend."

"That was nice of him," Matt adds with a sympathetic smile. He pushes away the sudden recognition that "the Chaplain" in this case is Sylvie's ex. Now is not the time for that twist of jealousy in his gut.

"Well, Fowlertown isn't exactly a hotbed of activity. Not like Chicago," Jordan says with a dry chuckle. "Who am I telling?" He turns a warm but tight lipped smile on Brett as he continues. "You probably know that better than anyone."

She laughs softly and nods her agreement. "I have never gone a shift without filling out one single bit of paperwork until Fowlerton FD. It's certainly sleepy."

Matt stands with Sylvie and motions her into his side of the booth before nodding between Jordan and the empty side of the table. "Then you have time to join us. Have a seat."

"Thank you. That's kind of you," Jordan says as he takes Sylvie's former seat.

Sylvie slides in before Matt and then he sits down next to her. There's not much space so they end up being a bit cozier than he planned. Not that he minds.

Jordan gives Sylvie a nervous glance. "Feel free to tell me to go to hell," he begins. "I know you probably don't want to think about the accident, but I have to ask...what do you remember? Is there anything you recall that might help find this asshole?"

Matt's protectiveness roars in his chest. Is now really the time to ask about this? Sylvie _should_ tell him to go to hell. Matt wants to.

"Right now I don't remember much," she answers apologetically. "But I keep getting flashes of little things I blocked out so it's possible I might eventually remember substantial things. There's a detective that's been keeping in touch with me just in case something jogs my memory. As much as a part of me wants that information to stay hidden, I'm hopeful I'll remember something important."

"I'm sure you will," Jordan replies as he reaches his right hand across the table to briefly squeeze Sylvie's hand in a comforting gesture.

Something about the action leaves Casey unsettled. It feels forced and a bit forward. But then...maybe he's just jealous. He's felt one sharp stab of it already today so it's hard to tell when it comes to Brett.

The radio on Jordan's shoulder crackles to life and he gives them an apologetic glance. "I better get back to it. It was nice to finally meet you, Sylvie. You meant a lot to Hope. She'd be happy you're doing so well."

"Thank you, Jordan," she says with an empathetic smile. "And it will get better. We just have to give it time."

"You're absolutely right," he agrees as he stands from the booth. "Have a safe drive home. Oh, and it was nice to meet you as well, Matt."

"Likewise," Matt's clipped voice replies, waving as Jordan turns and exits the diner.

He has no real reason, but he definitely does not like that guy.

After he leaves, the waitress brings their lunch. He watches Sylvie pick at her plate without actually eating anything with uneasy worry.

She shakes her head sadly and sniffles. Her throat clears and one hand comes up to swipe at her eyes.

Matt's arm instinctively goes around her, his hand landing on the base of her neck to massage the tense muscles he finds there. "What's going on?"

"I don't know," she replies in a voice thick with the tears that aren't falling. "I just can't imagine what this must be like for him. It's such an awful way to lose someone and then to not know who did it...God, I know I said I'm done trying to remember but after talking to Jordan—I can't help but wish I remembered more. I feel like I'm failing Hope somehow. This whole situation is awful."

"And none of it is your fault," he reminds her. "You can't force yourself to remember something, Sylvie. You either will or you won't. Don't torture yourself over something that's out of your control."

Her watery eyes meet his with a slow nod. "You're right. I know you're right, but knowing that and _feeling_ it are two different things."

The waitress comes back again, this time with their milkshakes, and sets them down in front of them.

Casey nudges her toward her with a small encouraging grin. "Maybe a strawberry milkshake will help?"

A slightly soggy laugh escapes her while she replies. "Worth a shot, I guess."

His eyes widen as he finally takes a look at his shake. "These shakes are huge."

She chuckles and nods. "Big as a Cadillac. That's what Hope and I used to always say. That's why we came here."

"I like it," Matt tells her as he leans back in his seat and glances around the diner. "And I like what I've seen of your hometown."

"You'll have to come back sometime when there's time for an actual tour," she offers with an inviting smile.

He nods and reflects her smile back at her. "I'd like that."

Honestly, he really would. He'd like to learn everything there is to know about Sylvie Brett, including the layout of her hometown.

"Let's finish lunch and get out of here," she tells him before taking a bite of a french fry. That's the first bite of food he's seen her eat since their plates arrived. Progress. She swallows and then continues. "I still have to call Detective Spencer."

Right, he forgot about that. For one brief moment he actually forgot someone might be out there waiting for the right moment to come after Sylvie. For a second, it felt like just him and her out on the town. Simply enjoying each other.

Jesus, does he ever wish things really were that simple.


	8. Preventative Measures

**A/N**: IT'S CHICAGO NIGHT! And also have y'all been seeing all these lovely things Jesse is saying about Brettsey? WE ARE THRIVING, KIDS. I am so high on winning that I finished chapter 12 so now I'm posting chapter 8! Enjoy!

Happy reading!

Angellwings

* * *

CHAPTER EIGHT

* * *

They leave Fowlerton with just enough time to get to the Firehouse in time for Matt's shift. She's not worried about going home. There's no detail there to protect her so she'd rather be at the Firehouse anyway. Plus, she's missed her 51 family.

Once they arrive, she starts to make a beeline for the common room but Matt stops her.

"Boden wants to see you first," he tells her.

"Oh," she says in surprise. "Okay."

She turns toward the office and side eyes Matt suspiciously when he follows her. Why does she feel like she's about to be ambushed? The nagging thought floating across her mind is confirmed the minute she gets a good look inside Boden's open office door.

Severide, Cruz, and Boden are all waiting for them to arrive.

She huffs and narrows her eyes at Matt as they walk side by side. "What are we walking into, Casey?"

"It's just a discussion about your safety, that's all," he promises. "To _talk_ not give orders."

She's doubtful but she and Matt just got over an argument about that, so she's choosing to trust he learned his lesson.

They walk through the door and Matt closes the door behind them. Everyone sits, her and Cruz in front of Boden, Casey and Severide off to the sides.

"It's good to see you back in the house, Brett," the Chief begins with a small patient smile.

"It's good to be back. I wish it was to work," she replies honestly.

"That'll happen soon enough," he assures her.

She nods. "Three more weeks." She takes in a deep breath to steady her anxiety before asking, "You wanted to see me, Chief?"

"Both you and Cruz, actually," he clarifies. "I understand that CPD pulled your protective detail?"

Sylvie nods. "They needed the manpower somewhere else."

"And you plan to go back to your apartment?" He asks, looking from her to Cruz and then back again.

"Well, it's where I live, isn't it?" She asks.

She knows her tone is bordering on annoyed when Cruz clears his throat and lightly taps her foot with his.

She sighs and gives Boden an apologetic glance. "I don't exactly have anywhere else to go, and I feel like I shouldn't have to hide."

"Can you stay with someone else until the case is resolved?" He asks. She notices he pointedly ignores the second half of her statement.

"Foster is out of town and Stella's place is tiny, and I'm sure Cruz would want to be the one to stay with Chloe. So, apart from running back to Fowlertown, no," she answers, trying her hardest not to let her irritation show. Running back to Fowlerton _is not_ an option.

Boden nods and then stares at her for a thoughtful moment. Silence over takes the office.

Matt clears his throat from behind them. He looks reluctant, even as he speaks. "You could stay with us," he says as he points to himself and Severide. "We've got the space."

Her eyes widen in surprise. She can _what_? "I, um—oh, Matt, you guys don't have to...I mean I don't want to intrude or anything. If I have to I can probably get a hotel room or—"

"Brett," Kelly interrupts with a grin. "It's no problem. He's right. We have the space. Besides, Stella will murder me if I let you go back to your place. I'd like to survive long enough to get the hell out of OFI and come back here, at least. Honestly, you'd be doing me a favor."

"I appreciate the offer, guys," she replies with a wan smile. "But what happens if the case isn't resolved? Am I supposed to hide from Hope's murderer forever?"

This is at least the fourth time she's asked this question and no one ever seems to have an answer. Including herself.

"Brett," Boden says with an empathetic glance. His voice takes on a stern edge as he continues. "Keeping yourself safe does not mean you're hiding. I understand your frustration but is staying in your apartment, for the principle alone, worth risking your life? We've lost too much here already. I won't lose anyone else, especially when there are possible preventative measures. No one here would accuse of hiding if you chose to temporarily relocate."

Well, okay, _Boden_ seems to have an answer. She hates how logical and precise it is. It's too hard to argue against it that way.

All eyes are on her, including Cruz's encouraging glance.

"I'll stay if you stay," he tells her. "But for what it's worth, I think they're right. For now, at least."

She glances around the room and feels the full weight of the collective concern. She can't say no to all of them at once. She doesn't have that kind of willpower. Aside from that, they're probably seeing this situation more clearly than she is. She's too close to it. Too angry. Too stubborn. Boden's right. If she went back to her apartment it would be for the principle alone and that's not enough of an excuse to knowingly put herself in danger.

"I...okay," she states, even though her raised pitch makes it sound like a question. She gives Casey and Severide a sheepish closed lip smile. "If you really don't mind then I'll take you up on it." She pauses before hurriedly qualifying it with another statement. "At least until Foster gets back into town."

"Fair enough," Casey replies with a relieved smile and a nod.

"Good," Boden declares. "Glad that's settled. You're all dismissed."

What's just been decided doesn't really hit her until she's walking away from Boden's office.

She's going to be sharing personal space with Matt? And Kelly too, but mostly…

_Matt_?

She already had a hard enough time fighting off her urge to kiss him or hold him at _work_. She can't imagine how much more difficult she just made that fight by agreeing to _live with him_.

Severide grins at her and Matt as they approach the common room.

"Since Casey is the one who volunteered us, you get his bedroom," Kelly tells her as his grin turns teasing.

"I know you're joking," Sylvie says with an eye roll and a chuckle. "But just in case you're not, the couch is fine."

Matt's brow furrows at her and he shakes his head. "You have a fractured rib and two stitched up gashes on your legs. The couch _is not_ fine. I'll take the couch, you take my room."

"Matt, I am not going to kick you out of your room—"

"You're not," he assures her. "I'm choosing to leave it. If you don't take it then we'll have to share the couch and that sounds horribly uncomfortable."

She shakes her head at him and chuckles dryly. "You are impossible, Matt Casey."

"That doesn't sound like an altogether terrible thing to be," he replies with a smirk.

"Frustrating, maybe, but no...not terrible," she agrees as she holds his stare.

The moment lingers for longer than it should, leaving Severide as the one to break the silence. The grin on his face is far too knowing for Sylvie's liking.

"My shift at OFI doesn't start for a couple of hours," he tells her. "I can give you a ride if you want."

"Oh! Yeah, that would be great. Let me just say hello to Stella first," Sylvie says as she motions to the common room.

Casey nods. "I'll get your bag out of my truck for you."

She bites her bottom lip and replies stiffly, her nerves apparent. "Thanks."

She parts ways from Casey and Severide — her new, however temporary, roommates — and heads into the common room. She walks briskly to Stella, throwing vague quick waves to Mouch and Ritter as she goes, and then pulls Stella into the back corner of the kitchen. They're safely tucked in between the fridge and the food lockers, out of listening range of anyone else.

"So, it looks like I'm moving in with Casey and Severide for a little while," she tells her with a wide eyed and panicked expression.

Stella looks elated and throws her arms around her. "Oh! Yes! That sort of makes us like roommates-in-law! This is fantastic!"

"Is it?" Sylvie asks with raised brows before repeating herself for emphasis. "_Is it_? It's hard enough keeping my feelings to myself around the Firehouse but now I have to do that non-stop off shift too? This is a terrible idea. _Really_ bad."

"Okay, calm down. You're going a little Ross Gellar on me here. Breathe, girl. Just breathe," Kidd orders with an amused smirk.

"How am I supposed to keep from jumping him?" Sylvie asks frantically.

Stella shrugs and suggestively wags her eyebrows at Sylvie. "Who says you shouldn't jump him?"

"Stella!" Sylvie admonishes. "I don't think Matt would like that very much. Clearly, we're just _friends_." She grimaces and then shakes her head. "Ugh, I'm going to do something to out myself and this stupid crush I have on him. I just know it. Foster can't come back into town soon enough. I need to get it together. Right?" She barrels ahead before Stella can answer. "Right. It's only a few days. I can totally do this."

Stella nods and squeezes her shoulder in a comforting gesture. "You got this," she assures her with a soft snicker. "It's gonna be fine."

All she has to do is keep her head down until Foster gets back in 72 hours. Piece of cake. Completely doable. And even if it isn't she's going to keep telling herself that until she believes it.

* * *

"You can thank me now," Severide declares as he follows Matt out to his truck.

"For what?" Matt asks in confusion.

"For having your back in there and convincing Brett to move in with us," Kelly says as if it should be obvious.

"Why would I be the one to thank you for that?" Matt asks as he opens his passenger side door and retrieves Brett's bag.

Severide smirks and takes Brett's bag from him. "Because you're totally and hopelessly into her, man."

His first instinct is to deny it, play it off, but that instinct is quickly buried under shock. He thought he'd been better at hiding it! But if Severide is calling him out on it—

"How _the hell_ do you know that?" Matt asks with a furrowed brow.

Kelly laughs loudly and then walks off toward his car, but offers no explanation.

"You cannot tell her," Matt insists as he tags along behind him. "_Or Stella_. The last thing Sylvie needs right now is to deal with me. She's probably still getting over Kyle and now she's struggling with the accident—I just want to focus on being her friend _first_. That's what she needs from me right now."

"I'm not planning on saying anything," Kelly promises begrudgingly. His begrudging amusement turns serious and thoughtful in a blink, giving a warning edge to his next words. "It's your secret not mine. But have you ever stopped to think that maybe a friend _isn't_ what she needs from you? I mean, look around, dude, she's got a firehouse _full_ of people who care about her. Brett's too _good_ to ever find herself lacking for friends. You know that as well as I do."

It's true. She makes friends everywhere she goes. Even people at neighboring Firehouses reached out to 51 to offer well wishes for Brett's recovery. Every house she's ever covered a shift for was worried. But he's still not sure what Kelly is trying to tell him. Why wouldn't Sylvie need another friend? What difference does it make right now as long as he's there for her?

"Your point?" Matt asks expectantly.

"Just...don't get so focused on being a _friend_ that you miss your chance at something more. It would be just like you to friendzone yourself," Severide elaborates with a dry smirk and a laughing scoff. "You dumbass."

Severide's right, Matt thinks as he watches Kelly throw Sylvie's bag in his trunk. In fact, he's sort of already done that to himself once — the night before Kyle proposed. Shit, he really _is_ a dumbass.

"I hear you," Matt replies as he scrubs a hand over his face. "You make a damn good point."

"Go figure," Severide quips sarcastically.

* * *

After chatting with Stella, Sylvie heads outside to meet Severide at his car and finds he and Matt chatting. They notice her coming and clam up.

She snorts and quirks a brow at them. "Yeah, not at all obvious you were talking about me, guys."

"Just verifying how we left the apartment and whether or not it's suitable for a girl," Severide tells her with a smirk. "You good?"

"Yeah, I'm good. Made the rounds," she answers. She gives both Matt and Kelly grateful glances. "Really, thanks so much for this. You didn't have to do it."

"We're here for whatever you need, Brett," Matt says sincerely. "That includes a place to crash."

Severide nods his agreement and then aims a teasing look her way. "It's true. Besides, we know you won't rest until you find some adorable way to repay us and I really want to watch that play out. Will you organize our apartment? Make us an overly extravagant dinner? Weld us some art for the apartment? No one knows. It could be anything. It'll be like living with a real life Disney princess. You don't have any woodland friends that might visit us, do you? Our building doesn't allow pets so—"

"I will throw my shoe at you," she threatens him through a chortling laugh. She knows her threat won't be taken even the least bit seriously. She appreciates Severide's merciless teasing more than he probably realizes. "Stop being mean to me!"

"Uh, no, that's what's going to make this fun. I get to be mean to you whenever I want," Severide tells her with dry smile.

Sylvie wags a scolding finger at him before responding with a victorious grin. "Not if you don't want me to tell Stella."

"You wouldn't," he replies as he sweeps a narrowed gaze over her. "You're too nice for that."

She quirks a brow and flashes him half of a wicked smirk. "Try me, and let's find out."

"Damn," Kelly curses with a hoarse laugh. He points to Sylvie but looks over at Matt. "She's good. Cut throat. This is gonna be fun."

Matt shakes his head and rolls his eyes at both of them. He holds up his hands, palms out, in a placating gesture as he comments with a grin. "Just leave me out of it. Consider me Switzerland."

Severide scoffs and then smiles secretively at Matt. "No surprise there." Kelly glances down at his watch and then at her. "We should get going. I've got to be at the OFI offices in an hour."

"Sure," she says quickly. She waves at Matt as she walks off toward Severide's car. "See you later, Matt."

He returns her wave. "Yeah, see you after shift."

She hesitates stepping into the passenger seat and then looks at him over her shoulder, with her eyes trained on his.

"Be careful," she urges him.

He nods, quick and decisive. "I will."

Once she has that promise, she steps into the vehicle and lets Severide drive her away from Firehouse 51.

And...toward Severide and Casey's apartment.

Oh god, what the hell is she thinking?


	9. Take Your Time

**A/N**: Hey guys! So I haven't finished chapter 13 yet, but I wanted to post at least one chapter before I leave for vacation on Wednesday. (I'm really hoping to post another before I leave if I can get it together and finish chapter 13.) If I don't post again before then, I hope you guys have a great week! And I hope we get another Brettsey moment on Wednesday!

Anyway, hope you guys enjoy!

Happy reading!

Angellwings

* * *

CHAPTER NINE

* * *

With all the insanity of his shift, Casey had forgotten about offering Sylvie a place to crash. He comes home on auto pilot — too exhausted to really think — and is temporarily confused by the sight of Sylvie curled up on the couch with a cup of coffee in her hands. But one look at her quirky snowman print pajama pants is more than enough to jog his memory.

In light of losing her protective detail, Sylvie is living with them, he reminds himself.

She looks extremely comfortable while halfheartedly watching some inane morning news program. Too comfortable. Almost as if she belongs right there, on his couch. It shouldn't fill him with fond affection.

But it does.

Sylvie doesn't hear the door or notice him. He's not sure why he hasn't spoken, but he can't seem to find his voice. Eventually, he'll have to stop staring at her, though. She'll notice if he doesn't. He likes the look of her in the apartment too damn much.

Kelly's bedroom door opens and he spots Casey immediately as he heads for the kitchen and the coffee pot. He's partially dressed for his shift at OFI already.

"Hey, man," Severide says as he pulls down his to-go mug and fills it up.

The greeting pulls Sylvie's attention to him and Matt fights the urge to glare at Kelly. Maybe it makes him seem slightly obsessed but he was enjoying having an undisturbed view of early morning Sylvie Brett.

"Hey," he replies, clearing his throat.

"Good morning," Sylvie tells him as she stands from the couch to approach him. "You look beat. Busy shift?"

"They saved all the calls for the last twelve hours. Or that's how it felt, at least," Matt told them with a roll of his eyes. "Bunk room stayed empty the whole night. I don't think a single one of us managed any sleep."

Severide and Sylvie wince simultaneously.

"As much as I want back onto Squad, I will say it's been nice having an actual sleep schedule," Kelly confesses with a sympathetic grimace.

Sylvie scoffs and shakes her head. "I don't even know what the phrase 'sleep schedule' means any more. What a joke."

In the next moment, her eyes find Matt's and one of her fingers is suddenly jabbing at him — narrowly avoiding poking him in the chest while she speaks. "You should sleep. Now. Your bed is free and you're taking it. Obviously, I'm up and don't need it."

He's dead tired, he knows, and possibly a little punch drunk because of it, but he cannot stop the laugh that bubbles up his throat at the sight of the stern look on her face and scolding finger extended out toward him.

"Yes, ma'am," he replies through the remains of his laugh. "No arguments from me. Trust me."

"What? Is me bossing you around really that much of a joke?" She asks him with a teasing glare. "We're off shift. I'm allowed."

"When has being on shift stopped you?" Matt asks her with a smirk and a quirked brow.

She stays silent, which gives him all the answer he needs.

"Exactly."

She laughs too and then swats at his shoulder. "Yeah, well, someone has to. You'd never stop to check yourself if I didn't."

That assessment is very accurate. He feels it sharply between his ribs. The fact that she knows him that well feels strangely gratifying.

"When you're right, you're right," he admits.

Kelly clears his throat, purposefully reminding Matt he's still there.

"I think you're both selfless stubborn idiots who could stand to be bossed around more often. That's what I think," Severide says as he tosses Matt a shit-eating grin. "You deserve each other."

He's going to kill him. Murder him in his sleep, maybe. Matt glances nervously between Kelly and Sylvie, trying to gauge her reaction.

Finally, she releases a rolling chuckle and scoffs. Clearly, not taking Kelly seriously. "Maybe so." She turns another stern glare on Matt and repeats her order from earlier. "But I'm dead serious, go get some sleep."

He nods and then waits until Sylvie is distracted by preparing herself another cup of coffee before he gives Severide a silencing glare. That was much too on the nose.

Severide smirks and then shrugs carelessly. Yeah, he doesn't care. Casey should have known better than to let him in on his messy feelings for Brett. It's already biting him in the ass.

He walks away from Brett and Severide and back toward his bedroom. He plans to shower, change, and crash. Those plans are postponed though when he steps over the threshold into his room. There's a scent lingering in the air that is vaguely familiar, and it stops him in his tracks. It smells like coconuts and some sort of tropical flower. It's an entirely new smell to this environment but not entirely new to him. What is it and where did it come from?

The answer comes to him when his eyes fall on Sylvie's bag in his chair in the corner of the room.

Now, he remembers that smell. It's Sylvie's hair. The brief whiff of it he gets anytime he hugs her is where he's noticed it before. He has a sudden flash of her hair while they were standing around the kitchen and he realizes it was slightly damp. The scent must be her shampoo.

The calm it provides him seems treacherous, but he can't help it. It usually takes him a little while after a shift to unwind. It didn't today. He felt at ease the very minute he walked into the room.

What the fuck is wrong with him? Is he a creep or just falling a little harder than he initially realized? Maybe both?

He drags himself to the shower before he can once again get lost in the aroma of Sylvie's shampoo. Once that's done the exhaustion hits him all of a sudden. He barely has the energy throw on a pair of boxers before he's collapsing into the mattress and burying his head in his pillow.

He breathes in deeply as he dozes off and involuntary grins. His pillow smells like coconut and tropical flowers.

_Like Sylvie_.

* * *

While Matt recovers from his shift, Sylvie calls Chloe. She would call someone from second shift but based on Matt, alone, she hopes they're all passed out and tucked in their beds.

Chloe drives her over to the apartment and they grab some of her things and some of Cruz's things as well. She packed a large suitcase full of necessities or things that offer her comfort and left the rest behind.

She's rolling her suitcase up to Casey and Severide's apartment door when her phone begins to ring. She stops with the key in her hand to pull her phone out of her coat pocket. Her brow pinches at the sight of Casey's number on her caller ID.

"Matt?" She asks as she presses the accept button.

"Sylvie? Where—where are you?"

He sounds near panicked with worry. She finishes unlocking the door as she replies. "At the front door. Where are you?"

"The front—"

She pushes it open and finds Matt standing shirtless in the middle of the living room with his phone pressed to his ear. He cuts off his question and hangs up as he looks up at her face. She immediately blushes and averts her gaze away from his chest — which leaves her staring at his boxers.

_Shit_. The floor, Sylvie. _Look at the floor!_

"Hi," she greets with a weak wave. She moves her stare from the floor to his forehead. That's probably less weird.

"Hi," he parrots as his eyes drift down to her suitcase. "Did you go back to the apartment?"

She nods. "I can't live off of the two days worth of clothes in my duffel, can I? Whether I'm here or at Foster's I'll need some of my stuff." She shrugs and then wheels the suitcase in, happy to have a reason to look away from his ridiculously smooth forehead. Why does a man get to have skin like that when women everywhere would kill for it?

He stares at her with a wrinkle set deep between his brows as she shuts and locks the door behind her.

"What?" She asks when he stays quiet. Awkwardly, she follows up that question with a more pressing one. "And can you put on a shirt or...some pants, maybe?"

"What?" He asks cluelessly. It's only then that he gives himself a quick once over. His eyes widen. "Fuck. Sorry. Be right back."

She nods while chewing the inside of her cheek and dedicating her gaze to studying her shoes. "Take your time."

Lots of time, she thinks as she feels her cheeks warming. Preferably until her face stops flushing and the urge to touch his chest goes away. Good lord, she knew he had to be fit under all his layers of clothing but nothing could have prepared her for the reality of it. She doesn't care if he has a shirt on or not, her hands are now itching to test the firmness of those abdominal muscles. She wants to glide them down his front — all the way from his shoulders to those exquisite cuts at his hips.

It's a wave of need bigger than anything she's experienced in a long time. She needs to get a handle on it _fast_. Matt's footfalls are in the hallway and rapidly coming closer. She shakes out her hands and forces herself to hold them behind her back. She locks her fingers together in a tight grip and prays for self control. God dammit, why does _Matt Casey_ have to be the person that sends her pulse racing?

He comes back in sweats and a t-shirt, barely looks at her, and heads straight to her suitcase. He snatches the handle from her and lugs the bag across the apartment with loud stomping steps. Clearly, he has a problem with her. But what is it? Is it because she went to the apartment? Because she hauled her own stuff inside? Because she did all of that without _him_?

She trails behind him, holding her tongue as best she can. The tension from when she first opened the door is still there but it's charged differently now. He's angry —or resentful, maybe? She can't put her finger on it, but whatever it is...it's pissing her off.

She's not helpless. Maybe this situation has her freaked and maybe she's a bit physically and emotionally banged up but she can take care of herself. She's been doing it from the moment she set foot in Chicago and she's not stopping now.

"Thank you," she says as he tucks her suitcase into the corner of the room. "But I could have done that myself."

"Yeah," he replies with a dark chuckle. "You've made that pretty clear."

Her lips purse and she fists her hands against her hips. "What does _that_ mean?"

He takes a deep breath, to calm himself she suspects, and then speaks again. "I'm sorry. I didn't—I woke up and panicked when you weren't here. It's ridiculous but I was worried that—" he stops and shakes his head. "Doesn't matter. It's still not an excuse. Right now, I am putting everything I have into reining in my temper. I know taking that out on you would be a dick move and I'm really trying not to do that."

"Temper," she repeats with a thoughtful nod. "Are you angry that I left? Angry that I went back to my place..._what_?"

"I'm not angry that you left." He scoffs with a confused expression. "No one expects you to keep yourself locked away somewhere. That would be ridiculous."

"Then what is it?" She asks, trying not to show her immense relief at his answer.

She's not even sure why she wants to know. She hasn't done anything wrong and he's telling her that he knows he shouldn't be angry. But he _is_ angry and now she's angry too. She's not sure how to resolve it except to try and understand him.

"Did anybody help you? How did you get there and get back? And why did you risk making your injuries worse by hauling a suitcase up here by yourself?" He asks the questions in a rush, a frustrated huff serving as the only break in rhythm. "Did you even think about asking me for help? I mean, I get that your independence is important to you, and no one wants to take that from you, but would it really kill you to lean on someone just a little?"

The tension in the air eases as he voices his inner turmoil aloud. For both of them. He feels better having put it all out there and she feels better knowing that his resentment comes from a place of _concern_. He doesn't know Chloe helped her. He only has half the picture, just as she only had half the picture when it came to his emotional reaction.

She steps into his space and puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Chloe helped me. She drove me there and back and helped me get the suitcase most of the way to the door. And yes, I thought about asking you for help but you looked wiped out when you got home and I didn't want to wake you."

There's a long pause and she watches his face as he takes in her words.

His smile is weak and sheepish and a bit of color has gathered on his cheeks. "Oh," he says in embarrassment. "Right."

She squeezes his shoulder before releasing it and then looks down at the floor. He was off base in this particular instance, but…

"You're not entirely wrong, though. I am terrible at asking for help or even just accepting help. I do need to get better at that," she admits.

"You work on that and I'll work on not assuming the worst," he promises with a crooked but wan smile. "Sorry."

"We can help each other," Sylvie offers. "We just have to keep talking like we are now. Think we can do that?"

He chuckles and nods thoughtfully. "I can do it if you can. Deal?"

He holds his hand out for a shake and she eagerly accepts it. "Deal."

A day and a half in and living with Matt is already proving interesting. If she can keep a hold on her hormones, this may work out well for both of them.


	10. Not With Her

**A/N**: Hey guys! Well, I finished chapter 13 but to keep my 4 chapter lead and post I really should finish chapter 14 before posting again…

BUT I'm leaving for vacation tomorrow and won't be back till the 29th so regardless of that I decided to post!

If you follow me on twitter, I am not sure if I'll be live tweeting or watching this week. Depends on when we get to the resort and whether or not I can get control of the TV, lol. BUT I will make sure to watch it Thursday night and will probably tweet my emotions. ;)

Happy reading! See you when I get back!

Angellwings

* * *

CHAPTER TEN

* * *

Casey walks into the hall bathroom and freezes.

There are bras and lacy underwear hanging from the shower rod.

"Oh! Sorry!" Sylvie calls out as she squeezes by him. "I meant to get those—" She pauses with a furiously blushing face and snatches the items one by one. "I left my drying rack at the apartment. I'm buying a new one first chance I get so you don't have to—" There's more frantic grabbing of bras and silky nighties and half slips. He's pretty sure he's never seen Sylvie this shade of red. "—deal with it anymore. I swear, I never did this with Otis and Cruz. I know better but there wasn't much choice."

His stare is wide eyed and focused on her as she rambles. Yes, he was startled at first, but she is definitely more embarrassed than he is. He's impressed by how little she's breathing and how much she's saying. It's an impossible feat.

He clears his throat to disguise a chuckle and shakes his head at her. "Don't worry about it, Sylvie. Really. You saw me in my boxers the other day so this feels like a fair trade."

Though, not really. A true fair trade would be seeing Sylvie _in_ the underwear.

No, Matt, don't go there.

But it's too late. He's already picturing her in the matching lacy sky blue bra and underwear set that's on top of the pile in her arms.

_Fuck_. Now _he's _blushing.

Sylvie awkwardly clears her throat as the air around them charges with _something_. He's not sure what exactly, but it makes him aware of how small the bathroom is and how much of each other's space they're sharing.

"I'm just gonna…" Sylvie's sentence trails off and she points a thumb over her shoulder.

"Um, yeah—yeah. Okay."

She closes the door behind her and as soon as she does he slaps a hand to his forehead.

"You just had to bring up the boxers. Didn't you, dumbass?" He asks his reflection as he focuses on the bathroom mirror. Jesus Christ, he's an idiot.

Later, when he emerges from the bathroom, he finds Sylvie in the living room folding a load of what looks like soft sweatpants and worn t-shirts.

The TV is on, but it's some show he's never seen before. His brow furrows at the sight of yelling women on the screen and Sylvie's rapt interest in it's ridiculousness.

"Do I want to know what's happening here?"

Her eyes find his with a shy smile and an amused expression. "Probably not," she answers honestly. "But the blonde with the short hair? That's Tabatha. Every episode she takes a failing salon and tries to turn it around in a week. It's an older show but Bravo is marathoning it today and I got sucked in."

"One week?" He asks in horror. "That's insane."

"Especially when the salon owner doesn't want her to make any changes," Sylvie tells him as she points to the brunette with chunky blonde streaks in her hair — the screaming woman he noticed when he first walked in.

He blinks in confusion and tilts his head at Sylvie. "She doesn't want—did she not understand that's what would be happening when she agreed to do the show?"

Sylvie laughs and shrugs. She seems delighted by his interest in the show. "Who knows, but the drama is too good to resist."

"What is the name of this?" He asks with a vague gesture toward the television.

"_Tabatha Takes Over_."

He sure he looks nothing short of incredulous as he responds. "Tabatha Takes—did the skunk haired brunette never hear the _title_ of the show?"

Sylvie drops the shirt she was folding and loses it. She laughs so hard that she stops to wince at a pain in her ribs. "Did you just call her _skunk haired_?" She asks as she places a hand on her injured side.

He smirks, enjoying her amusement. "Is it untrue?"

She shakes her head and tries to smother another laugh through tightly closed lips. It escapes anyway and sounds like the muffled tinkling of a bell. It's much too adorable.

"I can't do this with you while my rib is still broken," she says with a beaming smile. "It's too much."

He walks to the kitchen and grabs a beer before coming back to the living room to settle onto the couch.

"You can change the channel, if you want," she tells him with a casual wave of her hand. "I'm sure you'd rather watch something else."

"Are you kidding?" He asks with a grin. "I have to see how this episode ends, at least."

"Seriously?" She shakes her head and chuckles at him. "You really don't have to watch it. I've seen this one before anyway."

"Nope. I'm in this. We're watching it," he states with a firm nod.

Sylvie smiles fondly at him, conceding as she sits down. In his peripheral vision he can still see her folding but she's distracted by the show. He's not really a fan of reality television but the construction and remodeling side of his brain is actually intrigued by the concept of the show. Turning things around is part of his job, after all.

Sylvie clears her throat, drawing his attention, and meets his eyes with a small smile.

"You'd probably like HGTV better than _this_," she tells him. "That's more up your alley. Especially _Flip or Flop_."

"Yeah, I think I've heard you talking about that show once or twice before," he teases. It's more like at least once a day he overhears her summarizing it for Foster and Kidd. _At least_.

"Yes, I know. I'm kind of obsessed," she admits bashfully. "But genuinely I think you would like it. Oh! And maybe _Property Brothers_! Though, the appeal of that show may be lost on you," she adds with a muted chuckle.

"I don't know," he says with a doubtful squint. "I do enough construction on my own. Not sure I want it in my entertainment too."

She looks thoughtful for a moment and then shrugs. "Fair enough." There's a pause and then she turns a determined smirk on him. "We'll just have to work on that later."

He rolls his eyes with a good humored grin and shakes his head. "Yeah, we'll see."

He let himself get sucked in to this mindless but strangely intriguing show and continues to sit with Sylvie as she does her laundry. Watching her get up and down several times is a bit like torture. He can hear her suck in a breath every time she stands and it takes everything he has not to offer to do her laundry for her. She would hate that and he _knows _she would hate that.

He runs a hand through his hair as she shifts to stand again and he beats her to it. He holds up his beer bottle to indicate it's empty and then points to her now empty laundry basket.

"I'm going that way to toss this anyway," he tells her. "You want me to grab your clothes out of the dryer while I'm going?"

He gives her a hopeful look that he tries to keep from looking too eager. He doesn't want her to realize what he's up to and tell him no for her pride alone.

"Oh," she says with startled glance and a nod. "Sure, yes, thanks. If you really don't mind?"

He shakes his head, willing himself not to answer too quickly. "No, I don't mind."

She sighs in relief and sags back on the couch after handing him the laundry basket. "Thank you."

The door to the apartment opens as Casey is setting the basket full of laundry next to Brett. They look up to find Stella waltzing through the door with her arms full of bags.

Casey rushes to help her just as one bag slips out of her grip.

"What is this?" He asks.

"Kelly's on his way home from OFI so I thought I would bring over dinner for all of us. Something special for Brett's last night in the apartment.

Brett looks as startled as he does at that declaration but then recognition crosses her face (and maybe a little disappointment but that could be wishful thinking). "Foster's back tomorrow."

Stella nods. "Have you called her about crashing on her couch yet?"

"She didn't pick up," Sylvie answers. "I sent her a text but she hasn't replied."

"If she doesn't then you're more than welcome to keep crashing here," he offers. The disappointment in the pit of his stomach isn't normal. He should want his bed back, but he doesn't. He'll continue sleeping on the couch if it keeps her around a little longer.

"Thank you," Sylvie replies with a grateful smile that reaches her eyes.

"Tonight, we are only eating food that comes out of a carton," Stella tells them as she sets her bag on the counter and motions for Casey to do the same. "Which means Chinese food and ice cream."

"I am _here_ for this," Sylvie says excitedly.

Stella laughs. "I knew you would be. I got all your favorites."

"No way, even—"

"Ben and Jerry's Brewed to Matter. Made a Target run just for you, girl," Stella says with a quick wink at Brett.

The moan that leaves Brett's throat sends uncontrollable need zinging right through him. He shuts his eyes tight and tries to casually walk further into the kitchen (and away from Brett). She gingerly stands from the couch and wraps Stella in a tight hug.

"You are the _best_. Oh my god, I have two broken engagements under my belt already and I know you're in love with Severide and all but...good god, please marry me."

Stella cackles while she and Brett sway through their sisterly embrace. "I'm not gonna lie to you, I would make a kick ass wife. But I gotta choose Kelly. He has easy access to Boden's boat and that just really does something for me."

"Oh well," Sylvie says with mock disappointment as they pull away. "At least I tried. Can't blame me for that."

Stella chuckles, nods, and then pointedly locks eyes with Matt. "That's more than _some people_ can say that's for sure."

What the hell? So, does _everyone_ know how he feels about Brett?

A cell phone rings and Brett immediately pulls hers out of the mesh pocket on the side of her leggings. "Oh! It's Foster!" She exclaims as she answers.

"Hey! How was your trip?" Sylvie takes the call out of the room, toward his bedroom.

Which leaves Matt alone with Stella.

"So, are you waiting on some kind of miraculous sign to fall out of the sky or—"

"She's recovering from a trauma," he explains. "I can't rush into this while she's vulnerable. That's not fair to either of us."

Stella rolls her eyes and scoffs. "You say that like Brett is a doormat. She may be kind and gentle but she doesn't go out of her way to avoid conflict. She's not going to go along with a relationship _just_ to make you happy, Casey."

"That's not what I mean," he clarifies with an irritated huff. He continues in a voice that's steelier than he intends, but he has to make sure Kidd takes him seriously. "I _mean_ that she and I are both a little emotionally high strung right now and making a decision out of fear for her life or her safety is going to get us hurt. I've rushed things in relationships before and it's ruined them. I'm _not_ going to rush _this_. Not with her."

Stella's eyes narrow on him for what feels like hours, but is likely only a minute at most. She eventually sighs and then nods slowly. "Fine, I guess I can understand that. But not rushing it doesn't mean moving in slow motion. You know that, yeah?"

"I've already gotten the 'don't wait too long' speech from Severide," he tells her with a begrudging grin. "Trust me. I know that."

"You better," Stella tells him with a light smack to his shoulder. "Just don't be an idiot!"

* * *

Sylvie cannot believe she's hearing this. She also can't believe a part of her is _thrilled_ by it.

"What do you mean I _can't_ stay with you?" She asks.

She really should get out of this apartment. Matt is far too considerate and accommodating. Not to mention, she now sees the memory of him shirtless anytime they're in tight quarters. Like today in the bathroom. While she stood there with lacy lingerie in her arms and wondered what it might be like to model some of them for him…

She shakes herself back to the present as Foster answers her. See? That is why she has to get out of here.

"My cousin is in town and crashing on my couch," Emily replies.

"Your cousin? Didn't you tell me you didn't have any cousins?" Sylvie's eyes narrow into a glare as she sits down on Matt's bed.

"Second cousin! It's, uh, my mom's cousin's kid," Foster says in a rush.

She calls bullshit. No way would Emily let some random second cousin crash on her couch. "Your second cousin? And you expect me to believe this?"

Emily makes a disgusted sound, something between a scoff and a groan, before she speaks again. "Fine, my couch is free but you're not using it."

"What?" Sylvie asks, only in a slight panic. "Why?"

"Because you and Casey have got a get a move on, sis, and I think shared space is just what you need."

"Are you serious, right now?" She has lost her mind.

"Oh, come on, do you really want to leave or do you just think you _should_ leave?" Emily asks knowingly. "Being turned on by the guy isn't a crime, Brett. Maybe sometime you might even consider acting on that attraction."

She blushes but rolls her eyes at her friend. "No. No way. He's not ready for that. You saw what happened when Gabby came back. If anyone's going to make a move then it needs to be him. I need to know that he's truly ready to move on and I won't know that if I chase him. Besides, except for Cruz, I have done the pursuing with every guy I've been interested in. It would be nice to be the one pursued for once, you know?"

She stops and internally chastises herself. That's all based on the idea that Casey actually returns her feelings. She has no idea if he does and highly doubts whether or not that's even a possibility.

"But that's all a moot point anyway because there's no way that Matt sees me as anything other than a friend. Trust me," Brett says, continuing her earlier statement.

"Well, if that's the case, then there shouldn't be any reason you can't keep staying over there, should there?"

Dammit. She walked right into that one.

"Ugh, I hate you."

"I know," Foster answers with a triumphant laugh.

The dial tone sounds in her ear, indicating Emily has hung up. Sylvie releases a frustrated groan. Why does she have so many friends who love to meddle? Note to self: find friends who mind their own business.

Foster isn't wrong though. She was disappointed about leaving and she does want to stay. Staying feels dangerous. Like Russian Roulette. One of these times when she's alone with Matt is going to be the time she embrasses herself. She doesn't know which time, but she knows herself and she _knows_ it's bound to happen.

She walks back out into the living room. The first thing she notices is that Severide has arrived. The second thing she notices is Matt watching her with sad resignation on his face. Is that because he thinks she's leaving? God, she hopes so.

"So, funny thing," Sylvie says as Matt, Stella, and Severide's gazes focus on her. "I can't stay with Foster. Her second cousin is coming into town and needs her couch."

Or that's the story she's going with anyway.

Casey and Severide immediately look elated.

"Good!" Kelly proclaims. "I was just getting used to you!"

Matt nods his agreement with a smirk. "And now we have an even better reason to celebrate with our 'cartons only' meal."

She laughs and then joins them on the couch where they've spread out the feast on the coffee table. "Thank you, guys. Really."

Matt's hand finds hers and gives it a short and gentle squeeze. "Anytime, Brett. Seriously. You don't even have to ask."

He looks so exquisitely earnest and she aches to pull him closer. Why is he so damn sweet? She fights the urge to frame his face with her hands and yank his lips down to hers. Now is not the time. Truthfully, she's not sure there will _ever_ be a time for her and Matt.

No matter how badly she may want it.

"Oh, and one more thing," Kelly announces with an eager grin as he glances around the room at each of them. "I'm back at 51 next shift."

Stella gasps and launches herself at him with a giddy laugh. "Thank God!"

Casey leans toward her as they watch their friends embrace. "One more shift and then you'll be back too. Boden signed off on light duty in the bullpen."

An elated squeak escapes her and then she's wrapping her arms around Matt, all before her brain can catch up with her body and prevent either from happening. He chuckles softly and reciprocates the hug.

"Thought you'd like that," he tells her.

"Thank you, Matt. For _everything_," she says as she lets herself hold onto him a little longer.

His reply is soft and heartfelt. "It's my pleasure, Sylvie."

God, why does he make it so hard to let him go? She can't seem to pull back, physically or emotionally. The inability to put distance between them is _frightening_.

It's a treacherous line of thinking and a dangerous path.

But maybe, she thinks to herself, she actually _likes_ the danger.


	11. Devil's Advocate

**A/N:** So, I'm not caught up to my four chapter lead yet, but I finished chapter 14 and you guys have been wonderfully understanding! So, you get chapter eleven as a reward! Also, because we didn't get a new episode this week. :(

Happy reading!

Angellwings

* * *

CHAPTER ELEVEN: Devil's Advocate

* * *

"How's my roommate?" Cruz asks Severide and Casey before their next shift.

Severide smirks at Matt before answering. "She's good. Settling in to Casey's room quite nicely."

Matt rolls his eyes and chuckles. "She's welcome to it. Our couch is not made for sleeping." He rubs the sore muscles on the back of his neck and follows that with a roll of his shoulders. "Trust me."

"You know the minute her side starts to hurt even slightly less she's gonna try to switch with you, right?" Joe asks with a brief snorting laugh.

"She can try. It won't work," Casey insists with a fond grin.

Cruz closes his locker and then leans against it. "She started singing yet?"

Severide's brow furrows. "What? No." He glances to Matt for confirmation. Matt merely shrugs. He hasn't heard any singing.

"Wait for it. It'll start with singing in the shower or while she's pouring her coffee in the morning and then before you know it she's singing to herself every time she cleans or cooks or reads. It's nonstop," Joe warns them. "Thank god she has a good voice, at least."

Matt finishes buttoning his shirt as Joe leaves. He's heard Brett sing exactly one time prior and he knows Cruz is right. She has a beautiful voice. But, while Cruz seems annoyed by the constant singing, Casey can't wait for it. The fact that she hasn't started yet gives him the impression it has to do with her comfort level. So, not only does he want to hear her voice again, but hearing her sing without overthinking it feels like the ultimate sign of instinctive trust. He wants to have earned her complete unconscious trust more than anything he's wanted in recent memory.

"What's with your face?" Severide asks as he puts on his squad jacket and closes his locker. There's a pause and then a slow knowing smirk. "You're thinking about Brett singing aren't you?"

Matt ignores him, slams his locker door closed, and then walks away.

Severide laughs at Matt's retreating back. "Wow, you're a sap. Just ask her out already."

Easier said than done. He wants to do this the right way. This isn't just some girl off the street. This is Sylvie Brett. She's good and kind and selfless and most importantly of all...a truly good friend. He wants to move forward with her without losing _that_.

Which means things aren't as simple as Severide thinks they are.

Just as he reaches his quarters the bells go off. Shift's barely started. He sighs and runs for the truck.

"It's gonna be a _day_," Matt mutters to Herrmann as he passes the Engine crew. "I can tell."

"Tell me about it," Herrmann shouts back. "I broke a shoelace this morning."

Matt furrows a brow at him as he throws on his turn out gear. "So?"

"It's a _sign._ A bad omen!"

Great, exactly what they all needed. _Another_ bad sign.

* * *

Sylvie checks the time on her phone. The guys should be home soon from their last shift without her. Foster had been texting her with updates, but her last update was just over nine hours ago and very vague.

"_Suddenly feeling guilty that I refused to let you stay with me."_

She's about to reply and ask what that meant as she sits down on the couch with a mug of coffee, but the answer shows itself before she can.

She hears them outside the door before the lock ever turns. She isn't sure what they're saying exactly but the volume of their voices is elevated.

The door opens in silence and Casey and Severide storm through it, each retreating in opposite directions. They leave Stella standing alone in the doorway. She and Stella make eye contact and wince as bedrooms doors simultaneously slam.

Emily's cryptic text is starting to make sense.

"What happened?" Sylvie asks as Stella trudges over to the couch.

Stella steals Sylvie's mug and takes a large gulping sip before she replies.

"Severide thinks a house fire we responded to was arson and Casey doesn't," Stella answers with a tired sigh. "Boden told them their conflicting reports were unhelpful and to figure it out. Neither wants to budge. They've been arguing about it for about—" Kidd pauses to look at the time on her watch. "Ten hours now."

Sylvie grimaces and glances toward Matt's closed bedroom door. "What do you think?"

"About the fire or these two idiots?"

A short startled laugh escapes Sylvie as she looks Stella in the eye. "Both."

"I have no idea about the fire but I think our idiots are more likely to figure it out together than apart," Stella insists. "Divide and conquer? I'll take Severide, you take Casey?"

"Worth a shot. I mean, we can't make it any worse, right?" Sylvie asks as she worries her bottom lip

Stella shrugs and hands Sylvie back her coffee as she starts to stand.

"No, seriously, I'm asking you...we can't make it worse, right?"

Stella smirks at her and chuckles. "Right. Keep your phone on you. I'll text you if I get him calmed down."

Sylvie nods as Stella marches toward Severide's bedroom door. Stella drained half of her cup so Sylvie makes another cup for herself and one for Matt. She's learned how he takes his coffee over the years. You can only watch a person refill their mug in a public kitchen a limited number of times before catching on.

She kicks the door lightly with her foot instead of knocking, since her hands are full.

Matt opens the door and instantly looks surprised. "Sylvie, hi! Sorry, I blew right past you before, didn't I?"

"Don't worry about. You seemed upset," she says dismissively before extending a mug toward him. "Coffee?"

He takes the mug from her with a grateful nod.

"Can I come in?" She asks with a nervous expression. What if he says no? Maybe he just wants to be left alone to brood.

"Oh! Yeah, sorry," Casey says as he opens the door wider and steps aside.

Or maybe he'll let her right in. She can't suppress the pleased thrill his automatic trust gives her. He closes the door behind them and motions for her to sit on the foot of his bed. He only sits after she does.

"Everything okay?" She asks as she watches him take a slow sip from his mug. "You and Severide seem..._at odds_."

Matt snorts derisively. "Understatement. He's being ridiculous and letting his time at OFI go to his head. He's seeing intention where there isn't any."

"Okay," Sylvie says with a slow nod. "Still a little lost but maybe if you start from the beginning?"

He blinks at her for a moment and then realization crosses his face. "Right, I—I forgot you weren't on the call. I'm so used to you being there."

"Next shift," she tells him with an encouraging smile. "Light duty, but at least I'll be around. So, tell me about the call?"

He takes a deep breath and nods. "It was a house fire. Single family home. The fire was a full blaze by the time we got there. The mom left to pick up the kids from a party so there was only one person in the house, but…"

He trails off and his adam's apple bobs as he swallows hard. His eyes go distant. He looks past her with unfocused eyes as if he doesn't want to continue. She can guess how this story turns out.

"He was gone long before we got to him. Pronounced dead at the scene," Casey tells her. "The wife and kids pulled up as we were knocking it down—they were distraught. I had to hold her back from charging into the house. When she saw the paramedics working on him—she folded against me like a piece of paper, Brett. Crumbled to the ground like her whole world had shattered."

His eyes take on a teary sheen that she's gotten accustomed to seeing in the mirror as of late and she can't stop herself from placing her hand in his. He doesn't shy away. No, instead his hand tightens around hers, almost desperately.

"And then during overhaul, Severide has the balls to suggest that she—There is no way anyone who reacts like that sets fire to their own home and kills her husband. I just can't see it," Matt declares confidently in a voice clogged with emotions. "I know what a broken family looks like and they weren't one."

Her brow furrows and she sets her mug aside before taking his as well. Her family isn't broken. In fact, it's the opposite. Her family _chose_ her. That doesn't mean they don't argue or have their problems but it does mean they face them together even if it's uncomfortable. She doesn't know much about Matt's family. She's heard him mention a sister and a niece, but his parents seem to be a taboo topic. Thanks to his campaign for Alderman, she knows his mother was in jail for much of his life. She's never felt the urge to research that for herself. It felt like an invasion of privacy — like cheating. But it's not a big leap to assume the broken family was his own.

She sets their mugs on the floor and somehow it feels as if she's removing the last bits of the wall between them. The shields they've kept up to maintain their distance seem nonexistent now. She scoots closer and takes his other hand too.

"That's not the reaction of a woman who killed her husband," he tells her, darkness clouding his blue eyes. Suddenly, she thinks she knows why his mother went to jail, and the thought breaks her heart. He gulps and looks away from her as he continues. "_Trust me._ And blindly throwing around those accusations is dangerous. Their kids don't deserve to go through that. I can't believe he would be so careless about it. His report is practically an arrest warrant."

She bites her bottom lip and contemplates how to respond. It's possible Casey is too close to this to see it clearly but, on the other hand, he's always had good instincts about these things. Instincts that are just as attuned as Severide's.

"Did he say why he suspected her?" Sylvie asks reluctantly. The last thing she wants is to upset him more.

"The basement. He found the remains oily rags next to large traces of excellerants. To him, it looked strategic," he informs her through a tense jaw. "But that seems awfully circumstantial to me. Hardly worth involving OFI or PD."

She nods. She's never known Kelly to be rash about fire investigations. But that doesn't mean he's always right.

"You should go through the scene with him," Sylvie suggests, making sure she meets his eyes so he can see how much she truly believes him. What she's suggesting isn't meant to indicate doubt. "He probably needs a devil's advocate anyway, right? Besides, just because it might be arson doesn't mean the wife did it. I don't know, I just feel like you and Severide stand more of a chance to figure it out _together_."

Matt rolls his eyes. "It won't help. He's made up his mind already."

"Yeah, because he's stubborn and you questioned him, but we both know he values the truth above anything else," Sylvie says as she squeezes Matt's hands again. "Be the one who helps him find it. You know you want the truth too. It's gonna bug you if you leave it alone."

His entire face seems to pinch with an anxious glance as his eyes fall to their joined hands. "What if the answers aren't what I want them to be?"

"Well, then you'll know for sure and it might completely suck," she answers honestly. "But no matter what, you'll have me — and the rest of 51." She amends quickly, in the hopes that she hasn't shown her entire hand. "That won't change. Who _you_ are won't change either in the event you turn out to be wrong and the only thing you'll be guilty of is having faith in people — which can never be wrong if you ask me."

He smiles softly, still staring at their hands. "That _is_ a good point," he admits in a warmer, less stressed, tone. "Thank you, Sylvie."

"Anytime," she promises.

Her phone chimes in her pocket. She gives Matt an apologetic glance as she checks it. It's from Stella, letting her know that Severide is out in the living room with a cooler head. He's ready to talk when Matt is.

"You should go out there," Sylvie says as she points to his closed bedroom door. "I think someone may be waiting to talk to you."

He quirks a brow at her, his soft smile turning amused. "Did you and Kidd coordinate this?"

She presses her lips together to avoid a smirk and lifts one shoulder with feigned carelessness. "Maybe."

He chuckles and teasingly rolls his eyes. "I should've known. You're both too smart for us."

Her eyebrows lift and this time she lets her smirk unfurl across her lips. "You better remember that."

He squeezes her hands, reminding her that their fingers are still intertwined, and grins. "Oh, trust me, there's no chance I'll forget it."

She blushes lightly and then regretfully removes her hands from his. "You should go. Severide's waiting." She hands him back his coffee as he stands. "Go crack the case."

"Don't worry, we will," he assures her with a determined gleam in his eyes. "I'll keep you up to date."

"You better," she insists.

As he leaves the room, her affection for Matt grows and spreads across her chest. It feels like she's covered herself with a heated blanket. Casey may not have realized it but he just trusted her with a lot of personal information. It was between the lines of everything he said. His trust leaves her feeling cozy and secure. _Comfortable_. Which should be a difficult task in a home that's not her own, but somehow he's done it.

She sits on Matt's bed and sips her coffee slowly. She's stalling and hoping to give the guys time to talk. Once she drains the last sip, she ventures out into the living room and finds Casey and Severide putting on their jackets to head out the door.

She sings quietly to herself as she makes her way to the coffee maker and immediately feels eyes on her. She looks up to find Matt, paused with his hand on the door knob, staring at her with a stunned smile.

"What?" She asks as she meets his energetic blue eyes.

He continues to smile, but shakes his head dismissively. "Nothing. You're just...singing."

"Oh, sorry!" She says with an embarrassed flush. "I didn't realize I was doing it. Does it bother you?"

"No," he says, rushing to reassure her. "It's...it's nice. That's all. You have a good voice."

"Thank you," she replies bashfully.

Severide rolls his eyes but gives them both his knowing smile that she's been seeing more and more lately. Like he's keeping some sort of enticing secret.

"Casey, the scene?" He asks.

"Yeah! Sorry," he says as he clears his throat and opens the door. "Let's go."

"Be careful, guys!" She calls after them.

She knows they will, but a little additional reminder won't hurt.


	12. No Judgements

**A/N:** Well, my 4 chapter lead was a 3 chapter lead and now it's a 2 chapter lead. Been a little stressed this week so I've started chapter fifteen but haven't finished it. I still wanted to post for you guys though, which is why you're getting a new chapter today. I really hoping to keep at least a two chapter lead so I can keep my momentum going and eventually mark this story complete. (Reviews and comments help, by the way, so thank you to those of you who leave them!)

Happy reading!

Angellwings

PS - IT'S ONE CHICAGO NIGHT! YAY! TONIGHT IS CAT IN A TREE NIGHT (if you watched Jesse's press tour interviews you know what I mean ;) and if not...YOU'LL FIND OUT TONIGHT.)

* * *

CHAPTER TWELVE

* * *

48 hours off doesn't feel like 48 hours off when you spend a quarter of it solving a case before OFI can get their hands on it.

Sylvie turned out to be right. The best way to solve his and Severide's disagreement was to work on it together. It turned out they were both a little right. It was arson, but the wife didn't do it. It was the husband's sociopathic brother who had been hired to renovate the basement.

Only he wasn't satisfied with the pay so instead of taking his brother to civil court, like a normal dysfunctional family, he decided to orchestrate a fire. It was disturbing for everyone but at least those kids wouldn't have to grow up like he did. It was hell thinking that someone else would grow up visiting their only remaining parent in jail. He knew he was possibly too close to this one and that's why he was hesitant to look into it. He didn't want to find out he let his personal biases influence his work.

Luckily for him, that hadn't turned out to be the case. He texted Sylvie as CPD was showing up to arrest the brother. He updated her on the case and let her know they'd be home soon.

She texted back and told them not to stop for dinner on the way home.

"_I'm cooking. Consider it both a thank you and a congratulations."_

They arrive home to the smell of something truly delicious. It's a combination of savory and sweet. The table they never use is set for three. There's a large salad bowl in the middle of the table, a little bowl of freshly grated parmesan, and a basket covered in a soft tea towel.

"Right on time!" Sylvie says from the kitchen as they step through the door. "Have a seat at the table."

"What did I say?" Severide asks rhetorically. He smirks as he throws his jacket on the couch. "I said that you would end up making us an extravagant meal to pay us back. Was I right or was I right?"

"Chicken Alfredo is hardly extravagant," she tells him with a scoff and a roll of her eyes. "_You're welcome_, by the way."

"Pasta may not be extravagant," Casey says before pointing to a chocolate drizzled cheesecake on a fancy pedestal dish. "But _that_ is. You made a cheesecake?"

She nods and then elaborates enthusiastically. "Cannoli inspired. Saw the recipe on Pinterest and couldn't resist. There are tiny chocolate chips in it."

"I remember you cooking for the Molly's food truck once," Severide says as he narrows his eyes on her. "But I don't remember you cooking like _this_."

"Oh, that," she says with a shrug. "Those were handheld foods to prepare and serve quickly. That's not really what I cook when I'm at home. Baking and pasta are _fun_ for me. Planning a menu for a food truck is _not_."

"Casey cooks," Severide offers. "Mostly meats and manly side dishes like potatoes and corn. Guess that's something you two have in common, huh?"

"Manly side dishes?" Brett asks with a barely restrained laugh. "Potatoes I get, but what's manly about corn?"

"It's, you know, starchy. I guess. I don't know. I mostly just like to cook chilli and grill meats, don't ask me," Kelly says before abruptly turning and walking toward the table.

"For the record, I can cook more than just meat, potatoes, and corn," Casey clarifies, slightly mortified to be brought into this topic at all.

Sylvie laughs lightly and nods. "Good to know. Maybe we can cook together one night. That could be fun."

And now he's picturing a date to a cooking class, just him and Sylvie. The scene he imagines is so sweet that it even makes _him_ sick.

"Yeah," he agrees. "Could be."

He walks over to the table and sits down across from Severide. Severide's face is so damn smug that Matt really wants to punch it. But that might tip Sylvie off to his feelings for her and he's not sure he's ready for that yet.

"Not a word," Matt threatens with a glare in Kelly's direction.

"What?" He asks with a laugh. "I didn't say anything. I made absolutely no judgements."

"Bullshit," Matt mutters with a scoff.

Dinner is delicious, as is dessert. Dessert meaning the perfectly prepared cheesecake they eat with steaming cups of coffee while casually gathering around the kitchen counter. Sylvie is sitting on the counter with her plate in her lap and her mug resting at her thigh, Severide leans over his plate with his mug in one hand on the other side of the counter, and Matt finds himself drawing closer and closer to Sylvie's side as their conversation continues.

They regale her with the details of the case to start and then by the end they've transitioned into stories from the Firehouse — things Severide missed while he was gone or things that happened before Sylvie came to Chicago. Fun, lighthearted stories.

Even a few that included Darden.

They can all feel the night winding down as Severide and Casey wrap up a legendary Darden story (that somehow ended up involving a goat). Sylvie laughs so hard that it starts to hurt her injured side. She doesn't say anything but he notices the way her hand absently lands on her ribs. For Matt, it's a sobering reminder that he came close to adding her name to his list of lost friends. It's a list that's already too long considering his relatively short time on this earth.

He can tell Severide noticed Sylvie's movement too. The mood has shifted considerably.

Sylvie glances between them, seemingly reading the room, and gives both men a fond smile. "I've seen pictures of Darden at 51 and I always thought I would have liked him, but hearing your stories confirms it. I really wish I could have met him."

"He would have liked you," Kelly assures her. "Probably would have given you a little extra hell just for being so unfailingly nice, but he definitely would have liked you."

She chuckles and shrugs. "He wouldn't have been the first to use it against me."

Kelly's phone rings and he grins as he unapologetically answers. "Hey, Stella. No, not busy. Just finishing up dinner."

Matt chuckles and waves him off. "We see how it is. Fine, go. We don't need you anyway," he tells Severide with a dry grin and a scoff.

"I should get started on the clean up," Sylvie says as she glances around the kitchen with a tired sigh.

"No, I got it," Matt says, briefly touching her denim covered thigh to keep her from moving. He jerks his hand away once he realizes what he's done and swallows down an audible wince. Maybe she didn't notice. "You cooked so I'll clean."

"Thank you," she replies with a pleasantly surprised expression.

"I should be thanking you," Matt argues. "It's not everyday we get a dinner like that."

"It's nothing. I enjoyed it, really. I don't cook much these days. I forget how much fun it is until I do it," she admits as she watches him collect the dishes on the counter.

His brow furrows. "If you enjoy it so much then why not do it more? I'm sure the Firehouse would appreciate it."

She sighs, sounding exhausted by the mere thought of it, and picks up her napkin. It ends up nervously twisted in between her fingers as she answers him. "I'm afraid if I do that then it'll just end up something I'm _expected_ to do. The minute something becomes _obligatory_ all the fun is gone. You know?"

He nods slowly with an uncertain expression. "I think so."

"It's just—there's a difference in asking _what's for dinner_ and _what are we doing for dinner_. I never want to be in a position where _what's for dinner_ becomes a routine stressful question. I've been there and it really made me _hate_ being in a kitchen for a while," she tells him as she runs a nervous hand through her hair. She blushes and grimaces before she adds, "Sorry, that was probably more of an answer than you bargained for."

"No apology needed, Brett," he promises. "I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want an honest answer. Can I ask, though, was that when you were with Harrison? You don't have to answer if—"

"Yes," she replies, cutting off his attempt to give her an out. A bitter chuckle escapes her as she explains. "He would get so irritated if dinner wasn't ready when he got home." She rolls her eyes. "I justified it for years. I told myself that I was in classes and he was working full time—or right after graduation I started telling myself I worked part time and he worked 50 hour weeks—and I was the one who had the time. But that was all bullshit. He wanted control and he used tiny things like that to get it. I spent most of my life as a people pleaser and he used that to his advantage. _A lot_."

Damn, Matt hates this douchebag. To the point that he wishes he'd been paying attention when Harrison showed up at the Firehouse all those years ago so he could have kicked his ass. No woman deserves to be treated that way, but especially not someone who's already as giving as Sylvie.

"Well," Matt says after he reigns in his temper. "I can promise that won't happen here. If you want to cook then cook but we're not going to force that on you. I wouldn't let that happen at the Firehouse either, just so we're clear."

Her face brightens and her warm blue eyes meet his. "Thank you, Casey. I appreciate that."

"Of course," he replies, brushing off the intensity of the gratitude in her gaze.

She worries her bottom lip and he can tell she's internally debating something. He continues gathering dishes and gives her a moment to decide what she wants to do. Finally, she speaks.

"Can I ask you a favor?"

He stops what he's doing to give her his full attention. She sounds nervous which must mean her next request is hard for her. It's important and he intends to treat it as such.

"What's the favor?" He asks in return.

"Will you go car shopping with me tomorrow? I was going to avoid asking a guy to help all together because men and car shopping tends to always turn condescending but you've never…" she pauses and smiles softly at him. "You've never condescended to me so if anyone is going to go with me, I'd like it to be you."

He wasn't sure what he was expecting but car shopping wasn't it. Still, the way she asked means a lot to him. She trusts him to be honest and fair and to give her credit where credit is due. That's a lot of trust. He'd be a fool not to understand that.

"Happy to," he answers. "Just tell me when you want to leave and I'll clear my day."

She lunges forward without hopping off the counter and wraps her arms around him in a tight hug. "Thank you! I'm terrible at haggling and need the moral support."

He laughs and automatically returns the embrace. Before she releases him, he's sure to get a deep whiff of her hair and her shampoo — which he enjoys a little too much.

"Why am I not surprised?" He quips.

She smacks his arm and laughs. "Don't be mean!"

"Hey, you said it!" He says as she dodges a second swat. "I was just agreeing with you!"

She rolls her eyes but he can see the affection behind the gesture. "Just be ready to go at 9:30 tomorrow morning, _jerk_. And help me down from here? I don't want to aggravate my rib before my Doctor's appointment at the end of the week."

He knows she means to just offer her a hand down, but that won't stop her from bothering her rib. Instead, he encircles her slim waist with his hands and carefully lifts her off the counter.

She's blushing by the time her feet hit the floor and can't seem to meet his eyes. His hands linger on her waist as she eventually looks up and finds his eyes. They're close enough that his nose almost bumps hers as she turns her face up to his. He can't stop his gaze from dropping to her lips or imagining what it would be like to close the minuscule amount of distance between them to kiss her. He almost talks himself into it until Sylvie clears her throat, breaking the spell of the moment.

He thinks he hears nerves when she speaks. "Thanks. I should go to bed."

"Yeah, sure," he replies with a thick swallow as he releases her waist and steps away from her. He's scaring her off with his tactile instincts. He has got to stop. He should have just offered her a hand. "I'll finish up here and see you in the morning."

She nods and worries her bottom lip again, which does not help his resolve to not kiss her. "Yeah, for sure. Sounds like a plan. Goodnight, Matt."

"Goodnight, Sylvie," he repeats as he watches her walk away.

Tomorrow he'll have to be on his best behavior. He can definitely spend an entire day alone with Sylvie and keep his distance.

Yeah, right. Even he doesn't believe that.


	13. Not Normal

**A/N: **Hello! Finally posting early again because I managed to get my three chapter lead back! Wasn't last week's episode SO GOOD? Sylvie and Matt being wholesome pure hearted amazing people is always a win but ESPECIALLY when they work together. I've watched it far too many times. I may have it memorized at this point. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. It's one of my favorites I've written for this fic so far.

Happy reading!

angellwings

* * *

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

* * *

He wakes up on the couch the next morning and immediately turns his attention toward the closed bathroom door. Light is slipping out through the crack under the door and the water is clearly running but aside from all that he hears…

_Singing_.

He grins softly and steps up to the door, pressing his ear against it to get a better listen. It's a Pat Benetar song. He can just barely make out Sylvie's voice above the rushing water. It's a small thing but he _loves_ listening to her sing. The fact that she's comfortable enough now to do it quietly and casually while hanging around the apartment causes an unnamed warmth to spread out across his chest. It replaces his early morning bleariness with a burst of energy. The kind of energy rivaled only by a warm cup of coffee. It seems like the perfect way to start the morning.

"Casey," a voice calls with audible smugness.

He snaps his head toward the voice and jumps away from the door, knowing he's been caught. He finds Stella and Severide watching him with barely contained amusement.

"Please tell me you're not trying to spy on Brett in the shower?" Kelly asks as Matt pads his way down the hall — _away _from Brett's singing.

He flips him off as he passes him to grab a coffee mug. "No, she's singing. I was…" his sentence fades as he quickly realizes he has no acceptable excuse to offer them. "She has a good voice, okay?"

Stella chuckles and pats his back consolingly. "God, you're a sap. It's cute, though. Soft and smiley looks good on you, Casey."

"Can we _not_ tell Brett I did that?" He asks them with a sigh.

"Not tell Brett you did what?"

Three heads swivel toward the hall to find Brett standing in the open bathroom doorway (wearing only a towel). There's a blank pause while they try to figure out how to respond. Matt knows he won't be any help. The combination of Sylvie in only a towel and her post shower coconut and tropical flower smell means his brain has completely malfunctioned.

Thank God for Stella.

"Oh, it's nothing," she replies with a breezy wave of her hand. "He rolled off the couch in his sleep and bonked his head on the coffee table."

Sylvie looks immediately concerned and marches closer. "Oh my god, Matt. Are you okay?"

She's directly in front of him now and he's unexpectedly in the thick of not only her fragrance but also the cloud of humidity radiating off of her from her hot shower. A lot of her skin is exposed but she hasn't seemed to realize it yet. She's too worried about him.

"Where did you hit it?" She asks after his silence lingers too long.

He looks stunned. He knows he does. Which might work best for this hit on the head yarn Stella's just spun. His dazed state is his only explanation for his answer.

"Uh, you know, the table leg — I think."

Sylvie's eyes light up with humor and she presses her lips together to hide a grin. "I, uh," she stops and the barest chuckle escapes her. "I meant where'd you hit your _head_?" She turns to Kidd and Severide without waiting for him to answer, concern and amusement mingling in her eyes. "Do I need to check him for signs of a concussion? He seems pretty out of it."

That brings him back to the present in an instant. He's not letting her stress herself out over a fake injury. "No. No, I'm fine, really. I hit it back here somewhere," he answers as he vaguely motions to the back of his head. "I've had worse. I just need a couple of Advil. It was more embarrassing than painful," he assures her. He instinctively moves to pat or squeeze her shoulder, he's not sure, only to freeze with his hand hovering over her bare skin. He yanks his hand back with an embarrassed wince.

His stilted movement brings Sylvie's attention downward which seems to jog her memory about her current apparel.

She blushes from her, previously noted, bare shoulders to the tip of her hairline. "Oh—I forgot that I was—I was so worried about you that I didn't—" She cuts off her own nervous chattering and breathes deeply. "I should go. You know, get _dressed_." She turns on her heel and hastily retreats before Matt can utter a single word in response.

The moment his bedroom door shuts behind Brett, Severide scoffs through a quiet laugh. "Smooth, Casey. Real smooth."

Casey flips Kelly off for the second time that morning and returns his focus to pouring a cup of coffee.

"So, you're going car shopping with her today?" Severide asks as he nods toward Casey's room, obviously implying he's referring to Sylvie.

"Yeah," he says as he leans against the kitchen counter.

Severide smirks teasingly at him. "Does she know that you have the most boring taste in cars on the planet?"

"I'm assuming by _boring_ you mean safe, practical, and economic?" Matt tosses back with a quirked brow.

"Wow," Kidd replies with a laugh. "Well, don't worry, _Soccer Dad_. Brett's not much on flashy or fast either. You'll be fine."

Matt prepares himself breakfast. He's just finished the bacon when Sylvie emerges from his room. She's dressed and ready for the day. She looks casual and gorgeous. Her blonde hair is down — wavy and loose — and her makeup is light and barely noticeable. She doesn't need to try very hard to look breathtakingly beautiful.

"Smells good," she tells him as she fixes herself a cup of coffee.

"Thanks, you had anything yet?" He asks.

She shakes her head and he immediately adds more bacon to the skillet.

"How do you like your eggs?"

"Oh, Casey, you don't have to—"

"I'm already making breakfast for myself, Sylvie. It's not like I'm going out of my way here," he tells her with a gentle amused smile.

She blushes and nods. "Okay then. However you like your eggs is fine. I'm not picky."

She leans her hip against the counter next to him and slowly sips her coffee. He tries not to be distracted by her. He's only half succeeding. He thinks he should probably say something and start a conversation, but before he can Kidd makes her way to Sylvie.

"So, do you remember our conversations about you getting back out there? Dating again?"

Brett's eyes drift to him for just a moment before finding Stella's. "Yes?"

"Well, I need a favor and I think this may be one of those rare honest-to-goodness win-win scenarios," Kidd tells her.

Sylvie's eyes narrow suspiciously. "Why do you think that?"

"One of my friends from high school has an older brother coming into town for a job interview, and he's sort of an introvert and doesn't know anyone here so I told her Kelly and I would take him out one night. You know, feed him and get him a little buzzed," Stella says with a wink. "Then Kelly pointed out that if it's us and him then he might feel a bit like a third wheel — which fair point — so I _thought_ maybe _you_ might—"

"Stella, I don't know," Brett replies hesitantly.

Matt tries not to listen as he finishes the bacon and gets the eggs out of the fridge. But it's hard to ignore a conversation happening right next to him.

"Oh, come on, he's cute and a total gentleman, plus he's from out of town so if you're not into him then you won't see him around anywhere. I keep a promise to my friend and you get a no consequences night out on the town," Kidd argues. "Win-win. You have to admit you need a night out. You've been cooped up since the accident."

It all sounds perfectly logical to him, he thinks as he cracks and beats enough eggs for him and Sylvie. A stab of jealousy twists in his gut like a knife. He doesn't see how she can say no — or why she would want to. Why is he waiting to make a move again?

"I...I don't know. Can I think about it?" Sylvie asks, sounding anxious and unsure.

"Sure, yeah," she answers. "It's not till next weekend anyway. Just let me know."

Sylvie nods. "Right. You'll know as soon as I do."

Matt breathes a sigh of relief and starts scrambling the eggs. She still might say yes but at least he won't have to hear it up close and personal. He's right on the edge of waiting too long — the thing Severide (and Kidd) warned him not to do.

Awkwardness permeates the air between himself and Brett. He finishes the eggs and hands her a plate before making one for himself. She takes her plate and her coffee over to the couch but he doesn't follow. He needs to _think_. Clearly and objectively.

Is now the right time? Would he only be asking to keep her from seeing anyone else? Is that a good reason to pursue something with her? Does he have to have a reason? Isn't it enough that he has real feelings for Brett or that he genuinely believes they might be good for each other?

He needs to _think_ and figure out the answers to all those questions. He eats quickly and then heads to the bathroom to shower. He'll think while he gets ready for the day.

* * *

Is it just her or is Matt acting strange after her conversation with Stella? Could he be jealous? No, he couldn't. _Could he_?

He was just in a rush to get ready. They were running later than she wanted and that's all it was.

Even now as they walk around the dealership things are still tense. There's ice between them that needs to be broken. For lack of a better idea, she goes for levity.

"You know, I've been thinking," she starts. "If I have to get a new car, I should get something I _really_ want. Don't you think?"

"I don't see why not," Casey agrees.

"Great!" She says with an overly bright smile. She jogs a few paces to a car in the far corner of the used section of the lot and turns with her arms posed like Vana White. "Then I want _this one_."

Casey freezes and then guffaws with loud laughter just like she'd hoped.

"You want a used burnt orange Ford Pinto from nearly _fifty_ years ago?" He asks dryly.

"Absolutely!" She lies as she stands back to look at the monstrosity of a car with her hands on her hips. "It's perfect! Who needs safe or reliable modern day cars anyway?"

He smirks at her, obviously in on her bit, and plays along. "Yeah, airbags are a total waste of money," he replies dryly.

"Completely unnecessary," she confirms with half of a grin.

He shakes his head and grins at her with a muted chuckle. "Seriously," he says. "What are we looking for?"

There. That seems to have done it. Ice officially shattered.

"Whatever I can afford that's safe and economical on gas," she says with a shrug. "I just need it to get me where I want to go while being capable of playing the specifically curated playlists on my phone."

Matt lets a short good humored scoff and nods. "Well, _obviously_."

"My last two cars have been bland silver sedans and before that I drove my ex's old Jeep from high school," she informs him with a self deprecating chuckle. "I'm not exactly a car person. I just want it to work well, play music, and require very little maintenance."

"Sounds easy enough to manage."

He turns out to be right. It is easy — _too easy_. There are a plethora of options. It's a bit overwhelming. Casey helps her narrow it down with a quick phone call to Severide. It pays to have a friend who knows their stuff when it comes to automobiles. He gives them three reliable and affordable brands so that's where they plan to start.

Except, when she sits inside the first car to test drive it, she can't do it. The car is on, her seatbelt is fastened, and her hands are on the wheel...but she can't shift it into drive or press the gas. Her mind won't make her body do it. Panic floods her chest, pushing against her heart and her still healing rib.

Matt's in the passenger seat and the salesman is in the back. The salesman is saying she's welcome to start when she's ready.

Ready? When she's _ready_? What kind of phrasing is that?

She feels Matt's concern the minute he notices her hesitance. She stops herself from looking over at him to focus on her breathing. Now is not the time to hyperventilate. What is wrong with her?

Just put the car in drive and hit the gas, Sylvie!

She begins to reach and force herself to do it when a loud yell sounds from a far off spot on the lot. Headlights flash across her memory and she startles— bumping her head on the roof of the car and causing a twist of pain in her side.

"I can't!" She exclaims suddenly as she rips the driver's side door open and struggles to unbuckle her seat belt.

Tears fill her eyes and she feels frantic fear prickling goosebumps over the back of her neck. Her fingers keep missing the seat belt release and in her haze of panic breathing becomes increasingly difficult.

A hand wraps around her wrist and her first instinct is to yank herself free. The hand releases her wrist and then hovers in the air — palm up and flat.

"Whoa, _whoa_, Sylvie?"

Matt's voice breaks through the fog. She glances up and his eyes immediately capture hers.

"I—I need out," she tells him with an involuntary sniffle. "And I can't get the seatbelt to...I need _out_."

He reaches out with the same hand that wrapped around her wrist earlier and presses the button. The seatbelt retracts and Sylvie leaps from the car. She stands next to it with the door open and her face in her hands while Matt cuts the engine. She can hear him excusing himself from the salesman and handing him the keys before following after her.

She hears his footsteps and feels his presence long before he ever says a word. Matt creates a bubble of safety and stability for her anytime they're together. It's been that way for a long time — long before she ever noticed it. It's _that bubble_ that surrounds her as he approaches now.

His arms stay at his sides but she wishes they wouldn't. She wants them around her. Her adrenaline is still pumping from the panic and there's even more adrenaline coursing through her as the embarrassment starts to hit her. It's quickly spilling over into her tears that have yet to fall from her eyes. What is wrong with her? Why can't she get it together?

After a lingering torturous moment, Matt wraps his arms around her and slowly reels her into his chest.

"This okay?" He asks. "Earlier, I scared you so I didn't—"

Her arms go around him and she holds him tightly, cutting off his sentence.

"Yes," she answers eagerly through thick swallow. "Yes, this is okay. _More_ than okay."

He nods and breathes a sigh of relief. She feels the movement against her cheek and his breath across her neck as his arms hold her closer.

"Do you want to get out of here?" He asks in a whisper, trying to ward off any further attention — for her sake she assumes.

"Yes, _please_," she replies. "I—I can't be _here_ right now."

He steps out of her arms and then guides her through the lot with a protective hand on the small of her back. He keeps that hand there until she steps up into his truck. She keeps to herself and focuses on her breathing in order to calm herself and hold her tears at bay.

The quiet gives her time to think about what happened. She hadn't had any dreams about the accident since she started staying with Casey and Severide. She thought she was moving forward but that flash of headlights and the yell she heard…**.**

Were those even _real_?

Casey parks outside of the apartment building and turns off the truck, but neither of them move to get out.

Sylvie bites the inside of her cheek and lets one tear fall silently. "I...I think I'm losing my mind, Matt."

"You're not," he assures her immediately.

"I saw headlights shining in my face in the middle of the day. That's not normal," she admits as she frustratedly wipes at her face.

"Everybody deals with trauma differently. You're not losing anything."

"I haven't had the dream since we got back from Fowlerton. I really thought I was getting better."

"You are," he declares as he angles himself in the driver's seat so he can face her. "I see it every day, Sylvie. But it's not gonna be smooth sailing. It's bound to resurface every once in a while." He pauses and glances down at his steering wheel before finding her eyes again. "Have you driven at all since that night?"

Her brow furrows and she shakes her head. "No, my car was totaled and even if it wasn't my rib keeps me from going to the gym or work—"

"Exactly," Casey interrupts while he reaches over to squeeze her shoulder. "Being in a car similar to yours and being behind the wheel…"

"...was bound to bring up stuff," she says, picking up his sentence.

He nods to confirm her statement but doesn't add anything else. It does make sense. It doesn't make it any less humiliating, but it makes sense.

"So, what? I'm never going to be able to drive again?" She asks with a pouting huff.

"I'm sure you will," he answers quickly. "Just...not today. Maybe you need to be eased back into it. I don't know. We'll figure it out."

He sounds so determined and confident — in her and for her — that she can't help but believe him. If Casey thinks everything will be alright then it _will_ be. Simple as that.

"In the meantime," he says with a bashful smile. "I'm more than happy to drive you around. You've got a personal chauffeur anytime you need one."

"A personal chauffeur, huh?" She asks as a begrudging smile overtakes her face. She doesn't want to be smiling but the idea of Casey driving her around anywhere she needs to go is too sweet to avoid it.

He nods. "Whenever you want."

She wipes her wet cheeks one final time before pointing her smile at him. "Okay, then how about you drive me to Molly's tonight?"

He matches her smile with one of his own and lets his hand fall from her shoulder. While it falls, he accidentally grazes his fingers down the length of her upper arms. His hand lands on the middle console, right next to hers.

She lets herself imagine slipping her fingers in between his and holding his hand. If she were braver, she would do it. But she's not braver and right now she needs him in her life. He's her gravity in a world turned topsy-turvy. She's not willing to make things awkward on the extremely off chance he feels the same way she does.

"Consider it done," he says. "You and me and Molly's. Tonight."

"Perfect," she replies. It's the truth. Having drinks at Molly's with Casey _does_ sound perfect.

If only it were a date then it actually _would_ be perfect.

Who is she kidding? Fat chance of that. There's no way, given their messy history, that Matt is interested. It's far more likely that he's still hung up on Gabby's visit, and the last place she wants to be is in between the two of _them_.


	14. Can I Ask You For a Favor?

**A/N: **So I finished Chapter 17 which means you guys get Chapter 14, and I really think you're gonna absolutely love it. *smirk* Or at least I hope you will.

Happy reading!

angellwings

* * *

_CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Can I Ask You For a Favor?_

* * *

The next morning, she gets ready for work for the first time in two weeks. But she dresses business casual for the bullpen. No need to change in the locker room. She's not getting on the rig today. Her rib hurts less often but she's still not ready for work or vigorous exercise. She's getting closer. The doctor visit the day after tomorrow will tell her how on target she is to be back on the job in another couple of weeks.

Regardless, the sight of Casey waiting to drive her to the Firehouse feels pretty damn good. Her life is slowly getting back to normal. Well, normal adjacent at least. She's not sure completely normal is possible considering how her feelings for Matt have grown since the wreck.

His truck pulls to a stop and parks along the sidewalk outside of the Firehouse. He turns off the engine and grins softly at her.

"How's it feel?" He asks, knowingly.

She takes a deep breath and releases it slowly, beaming at him the entire time. "Wonderful."

He nods in understanding before nodding toward 51. "Ready?"

"Ready," she answers eagerly as she reaches for the door.

Casey's soft grin stays pointed at her as they walk up to the house. He opens the door and holds it for her. "Glad to have you back at work, Sylvie," he says as she passes him.

"Glad to be back," she replies with a grateful glance. He's the one who talked to Boden for her. She can't thank him enough.

They walk into the common room side by side, holding their breath for people to notice. Finally, Foster does and rushes Sylvie with a hug. Matt stiffens next to her.

"Easy. Watch the rib," he mutters protectively.

Foster ignores him with a roll of her eyes and hugs Sylvie tightly. "Happy to have you back in the house, Partner, even if I can't get you back on Ambo just yet."

"I'm so ready to be back," Sylvie replies. "Who's the PIC covering for me?"

"Rafferty. Boden requested her to make up for Chad and Choute," Foster answers with a shrug. "She's a bit stiff but at least she's competent. However, she's still not Sylvie Brett."

"Nobody is," Casey concurs before addressing Sylvie. "Boden wants to see you before roll call, by the way."

She blushes and nods. "Thanks. I'll head that way after I catch up with Foster."

Matt squeezes her shoulder before he walks away toward the bunk room. "See you later."

"See ya," she calls to his retreating back.

As soon as he's out of earshot, Emily closes in to whisper. "What was that?"

"What?" Sylvie asks.

"The 'watch the rib'. Sounds like a boyfriend move if you ask me."

She rolls her eyes and laughs softly. "Which is exactly why I didn't. He's just being a good friend."

"Uh huh. And the way he was glued to you at Molly's last night — to the point of ignoring the redhead that was clearly scoping him out — was also him 'just being a good friend'?" Emily asks pointedly.

"I need to go see Boden," Sylvie says, not even trying to hide her attempt to avoid the question.

Truth is, Sylvie has no idea what _that_ was about. Matt's free to see whoever he wants but he worked awfully hard last night to ignore a group of women who were noticeably interested — choosing instead to hang out with _her_. Did that mean something? Or was he just being there for her after her episode while car shopping?

Until she knows the answer, she has no choice but to avoid Emily's question. And meeting with Boden gives her the perfect excuse.

* * *

"Hey," Kelly says when Casey reaches the locker room. Casey acknowledges him with a nod before he continues. "Brett make it?"

"Yeah, she's probably going to end up with another broken rib thanks to Foster, but she made it," Casey replies with a scoff.

"I heard the two of you were pretty cozy at Molly's last night," Severide tells him with a smirk.

"I don't know about _cozy_," Matt disagrees. "But we hung out, sure."

Kelly laughs quietly and shakes his head. "Yeah, okay."

While they change Casey remembers a conversation he overheard between Stella and Sylvie. "Did, uh, Brett ever answer Kidd about being your fourth for her friend?"

Severide smirks and quirks a brow at him. "I'm not sure. Stella hasn't said. If you really want to know then you should just ask Brett."

He sighs in resignation and nods.

"She's not gonna stay single forever, Casey," Kelly needlessly reminds him as he puts on his Squad jacket and shuts his locker.

Matt doesn't bother replying. The statement seems too obvious to require one. He finishes changing and then reports to roll call. Boden acknowledges Brett where she sits between Foster and Kidd. He can't help but smile warmly at the round of cheers and applause she receives. The Firehouse hasn't been the same without her and they all know it.

They hit the ground running with a call before the roll call even ends. They stay busy until about twelve hours in. After a particularly messy call involving a collapsed parking structure, Matt heads to his locker to grab his extra shirt. The one he's wearing is covered in dust and needs to be washed. But when he reaches the locker room doorway, he can make out women's voices. Kidd, Foster, and Brett. Kidd is rinsing off and changing clothes. His plan is to back away and come back later…

But then their words finally register.

"What was with you and Casey at Molly's last night?"

"Thank you! That's what I want to know too! She dodged me earlier!"

"There was nothing '_with_' us. We just showed up at Molly's like normal," Brett replies with a tired huff as if she's addressed this topic plenty of times before.

"Last night was _not_ normal Brett and Casey behavior," Kidd informs her. "You two acted like you were the only people in the whole bar."

"Guys, seriously, he was just being a good friend — no, a _great_ friend. Yesterday was rough and he was helping me cope. That's all that was. I swear," Brett says, irritation coloring her tone.

"Seems like more than friendship to me," Foster replies.

Sylvie sighs. It's a sigh that sounds equal parts hopeless and sad. "That's not what he wants. Not with me. Besides, you saw what happened when Dawson came back to town. How happy he was after...I've been thinking about it and, even if he did want something beyond platonic with me, I can't get in the middle of that. You know?"

"I don't know, Brett. Do you ever think that Dawson's visit was the last piece of closure he needed? I mean, he hasn't mentioned her once since she left. Maybe he's sorted all that out," Stella says encouragingly.

Yes, exactly. Thank you, Stella Kidd. He _has_ sorted that out.

"I don't know the whole story there, but it _seems_ like ancient history to me," Foster adds.

"Most of the time I think that too, but…" Sylvie pauses. It's a meaningful pause and he can feel her hesitancy all the way on the edge of the room. "I guess I'd like to hear that from him."

"Well, if you never do," Kidd tells her. "My friend's brother is still coming to town. It's always nice to meet new people."

Sylvie chuckles weakly and humors Stella's efforts as she replies, "Maybe. I'll think about it."

"Is he hot? Cause if Brett doesn't want him, I'll take him," Foster offers.

"I want him to have fun, not be eaten alive."

"Hey!"

"The truth hurts, babe."

The sound of Stella's locker door closing breaks whatever spell he was under that had him eavesdropping. He quickly turns and retreats to the bunk room. The door to Severide's quarters is open so he charges inside and shuts the door behind him. He turns his back to the door _just_ as the girls emerge from the lockers.

Severide is pointing a shit eating grin at him when he finally looks up at him.

"You need something, Casey?" He asks.

"I fucked up," he admits as he reaches up and pinches the bridge of his nose. "She thinks I don't want her and that I'm still not over Gabby."

"How do you know that?" Kelly asks knowingly.

"I...may have accidentally eavesdropped on a conversation Brett just had with Kidd and Foster."

"Sure, accidentally," he replies in disbelief. "Have you ever told Brett you worked through the Dawson stuff?"

"No," he answers lamely.

"Then how would she know you've closed that door?" Kelly asks. "And of course she thinks you don't want her. You haven't made a move, man, despite having _plenty_ of opportunities. She's not a mind reader. She also knows how messy this is considering your ex was her best friend. She's not going to be the one to make the first move. You have to do that. _So do it_. Yeah, you fucked up, but it's fixable. _Fix it_."

"Fix it? Just like that?" Matt asks him flatly.

"Yeah, come clean, dude," Kelly insists. "Tell her how you feel. You're this close to being a dumbass. Remember when I told you not to be one of those?"

Casey rolls his eyes and scoffs. "Yeah, I remember."

"_Do something_, Casey. Soon."

As annoying as it is to admit it, Kelly's right. If he's going to make a move, it's now or never.

* * *

She made it through her first light duty shift. It was still boring but at least she could listen to the radio and stay informed in real time. It beat sitting at home trying to find ways to pass the time and not worry about her 51 family.

Matt's been eerily quiet most of the day. It reminds her of how he was after breakfast yesterday. This time she leaves him alone. She gets the feeling he needs the emotional space. It's like he's working up to something big, but she can't figure out what. They park outside the building and make it to the door in silence.

As they walk into the apartment, she realizes she's starving. She needs to eat and she's sure Matt does too.

She sets her bag on the couch and then heads to the kitchen.

"I'm gonna make myself some breakfast," she tells him. "I owe you for yesterday. Do you want anything?"

He blinks at her for a long moment as if her question somehow shocked him. "What?"

Her brow furrows in concern as she repeats herself. "Do you want anything?"

His answer comes out as more of a hoarse croak than a word. "Yes."

Her concern increases and she steps into his space to get a better look at his face. "Casey, you're worrying me. Are you okay?"

He swallows hard and takes a deep breath. She assumes he's about to explain his behavior, and he does...but not with words. With a quickness she's only seen in a crisis, he reaches out to frame her face before dipping his lips down to hers.

She barely has time to register the kiss before he's pulling away with a guilty expression and a wince. She hasn't moved a muscle. Her arms have stayed pinned to her sides and her feet feel glued to the floor. She must be blinking at him with wide clueless eyes because that's how she feels. _Clueless_.

What _the hell_ just happened? And why did he _stop_?

"Sylvie, I'm—" he cuts himself off and runs a hand over his face. "I shouldn't have done that. Not _first_."

"Not...first?" She asks as she continues to blink at him.

None of this is making sense. She wishes he were still kissing her. Sense wouldn't matter if he was still kissing her. Not only that, but that may have been her one chance to kiss him and she just..._stood there_. What is wrong with her?

"I had a plan," he explains nervously. "I had a speech worked out. About how Gabby and I are definitely over and there's no way you would ever be getting in the middle of _anything_."

She recognizes those words as her own but there's no way he heard her say that. Is there?

"About how I want to move on and be happy. It's been a long time since I've been truly happy. Longer than I care to admit. I was going to tell you that _you_ make me happy and then _ask_ if you might consider being more than friends," he rambles. His hands drag over his face and through his hair as he shakes his head at himself. "Kissing you was supposed to happen only in the event that you want the same things I do, but I've screwed that plan up. I'm sorry I ambushed you. That was inexcusable."

"I—I'm sorry. _What?_" she asks as she tries to process everything he's just confessed. She presses her fingers to her recently kissed lips and stares at him in shock for much longer than she likely should. Finally, she manages to pull her hand away from her lips and follow up her first question with a clearer one. "You want to be more than friends..._with me_?"

He nods emphatically. "Yes."

"But after Gabby came back you seemed so happy. I don't understand—"

"I was happy. I was! But not for the reasons you think, Sylvie. Her coming back threw me off. _Way off_. But I needed it. I needed the closure and I needed to see her again to remember how different we are. Gabby and I were never going to work. From the beginning we wanted different things. Seeing her one last time allowed me to _choose_ to move on. If I seemed happier then it was because I finally felt _free_ to live my life again. No other reason. I swear," he tells her as he shoves his hands in his pockets and takes one large step away from her. "But I get it if the history between us seems too messy for you. I mean, I think we could be really great together and none of that matters if we make each other happy. But I know it makes the idea of you and me..._complicated_. I'll understand and I'll never bring it up again if that's the case."

She bites her bottom lip while she thinks and crosses all the distance he's just put in between them. He started this and she's not letting him chicken out now.

"Casey, can I ask you for a favor?"

"Anything," he replies immediately.

"Kiss me again?"

"What?" He asks, looking equal parts hopeful and confused.

"Kiss me, please. Right now," she answers. The hope in his eyes gives her a little ego boost. The confidence shows itself in her tone.

He steps forward with a crooked self conscious grin and nods.

She doesn't wait for his lips to touch hers. She enthusiastically wraps her arms around his neck and pushes up on her toes, meeting him halfway. She messed up that first kiss. She won't ruin this one too.

She feels him smile against her lips before wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into him. Her hands drift into his hair and idly card through it as the kiss deepens. Matt slides a hand under the back of her blouse. The skin on skin contact causes her to gasp and allows Casey to take advantage of her parted lips. Her senses are filled with him — to the point of being overwhelmed. He walks them backward toward the couch and just as the backs of her legs collide against it she pulls back to smile brightly at him.

"Eventually, we're going to have to talk about this eavesdropping thing. That's the _only_ way you could know I felt like I might be in the middle of something with Dawson," she admonishes with a playful glare.

"_Unintentionally _eavesdropping. The locker room isn't exactly private," he replies with a bashful smile.

"Fair enough," she agrees with a soft chuckle. "And for the record, I want to be more than friends with you too."

"Yeah, I kinda got that," he teases.

She rolls her eyes and smacks his shoulder lightly. "Don't be a jerk," she tells him with an affectionate smile. "I don't care about how messy or complicated this all seems if you don't. You're right. None of that matters if we make each other happy. And you _do_ make me happy, Matt. You really do."

Especially now that his arms are around her and she's finally gotten a taste of his kisses. This is the warmest and the happiest she's felt maybe _ever_. What she felt with Harrison or Kyle in the early days certainly pales in comparison to how she feels right now.

But Casey doesn't need to know that..._yet_.

"Forget cooking," Casey tells her as he grabs her hand and nods toward the door. "Let's go out. We can talk more over food and coffee."

"Good," she agrees. "I have questions. There are things about Matt Casey that I don't know yet. I hope you're ready. It might feel like an interview."

He laughs and adjusts his hold so that their fingers are interlocked. "Bring it on, Sylvie Brett. I can take it if you can. I have a few questions of my own."

She _was_ feeling tired and run down, but _now_ she feels giddy and energized. It's amazing what a few Matt Casey kisses can do.


	15. Take It To Heart

**A/N: **This chapter was written before "A Chicago Welcome" aired btw so anything in here about Brett being adopted was based on her one line about it to Gabby way back when. This chapter is a bit of a filler but I HAD to write the last half of this. I was DYING TO because I've had a line in my head for Herrmann to use since I was working on "Love Is Looking For You" and I never got the chance in that one lol.

Happy reading!

angellwings

* * *

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: Take It To Heart

* * *

It's been a long time since Casey has spent so much time talking and laughing with a woman. He has questions — things he's been dying to know about Sylvie Brett — and she has answers. Most are basic questions that they'd never stopped to discuss. What is her family like? What are her hobbies? How does she cope with the job? Is Fowlerton as idyllic as it seems at first glance?

She fires back with her own questions. What's his sister like? How old is his niece? When did he know being a first responder was his calling? (Because it's what he's meant to do — she made certain to assure him of that.) She throws some of his questions back at him about hobbies and coping. She asks him what it was like growing up in Chicago and what his favorite things about the city are.

All of this conversation happens before, during, and after their meal. It stays lighthearted and encouraging, but as they pull up outside of the apartment building a more serious question occurs to him.

"Can I...can I ask you something that might be overstepping?"

She gives him a look that tells him she thinks he's being ridiculous. "Casey, we've known each other for a long time. Nothing you ask could be overstepping."

"Did you grow up knowing you were adopted?"

She smiles sadly at him and nods. "I was young when my parents adopted me but I was old enough to remember some things. The memories have mostly faded now, but I knew I had parents who gave me up. I still have this one glimpse of someone I _think_ is my mom lingering in the back of my mind." She chuckles dryly and shrugs in an unaffected way he can see she doesn't feel. "But a two year old's memories aren't that reliable, you know? It could be anyone."

"I can't imagine that," Casey tells her with a mix of admiration and concern.

"Most of the time I didn't feel any different," she replies, worrying her bottom lip before she spoke. "I was lucky. I found a home with two people who loved me completely. Not only that but I actually favored them so a lot of people didn't think anything of it. There weren't that many questions around town."

"Most of the time?" He asks.

"I had my moments, still do sometimes, where I wondered why they didn't want me or why they aren't at least curious about me _now_. But those moments were fortunately pretty fleeting for me. That's not to say, they aren't hard when they happen but — I guess I just try to be thankful for the people I have instead of resentful toward the people who left. If that makes any sense."

Matt smiles warmly at her and nods slowly. "That makes perfect sense to me. Losing people, no matter how you lose them, seems to always make you appreciate the people who are still here."

"And keeps you from taking them for granted," she adds thoughtfully.

"Or it should," he says with a furrowed brow. "The older I get the more clearly I see myself. I tend to bury myself in something else or shut down when I lose someone. Unintentionally meaning that I _do_ take everyone else for granted. Losing Darden, Otis, and even Gabby resulted in me jumping into work head first—"

"And elevator shafts," she tells him with a pointed glare.

He can see the affection hiding underneath it and chuckles with a self deprecating grin. "Not my wisest move. I know."

"I don't remember seeing you shut down, though," Sylvie says with a furrowed brow.

"I've learned better ways to cope over the years, but when I lost Hallie I lost myself for a while and then after my dad and my mom…" his sentence trails off. He can't seem to finish it. He's never done well talking about his family or even Hallie. He tried to keep those things in the past as much as possible.

Sylvie's hand covers his and squeezes. He ignores the slight jolt of electricity her touch causes and focuses on her words. "You don't have to talk about it, Casey. I know we've done a lot of talking today but we don't have to air it all out right now. It's okay. I understand."

He nods, appreciatively. He gets the feeling she's put together most of it on her own, anyway. Or maybe heard about it from other people. "Thank you, Sylvie."

"Anytime," she replies. "Thank you for breakfast and for the conversation. I've had a great time this morning."

"Me too," he agrees.

"So, now what?" She asks. "We seem to have talked about everything except where we go from here."

"Well, obvious answer, but I think we start with a date," he answers.

"I like it," she responds with an amused grin. "Simple, but effective."

He smiles softly and nods. "I think so."

"I promised I would make an appearance at Molly's tonight, so maybe tomorrow?" She asks eagerly.

"Sure," he answers with a nod. "I owe Severide a drink so we were planning to meet there tonight anyway. Need a ride?"

She laughs lightly and it sends a thrill zinging right through him. "So, we'll be hanging out in the same general vicinity all night but _not_ on a date?"

"It would seem so."

"And then you're going car shopping with me again tomorrow morning?" She asks, amusement still coloring her cheeks. "And _then_ we have a date? Eventually, isn't this just going to feel like one marathon of a date?"

And now he's laughing too. "I'm not complaining but you're right that is a bit…"

"Hilarious? Extra? The kind of ridiculous reserved specifically for 51?" She asks as she chuckles through her words.

"Well, we could kill two birds with one stone and turn car shopping into a date," Matt offers with a smirk.

"Make car shopping a date?" She asks him with wary narrowed eyes.

"Get breakfast on the way to the first lot and then maybe lunch later. Throw in the challenge of haggling a good price and a fair interest rate in between the flirting and - yeah, I think it could be a solid date," he declares half seriously.

She taps her chin thoughtfully with a singular finger and squints at him with a low hum. "Interesting. Guess we'll find out."

He quirks a brow and then smiles humorously. "I'm right. You'll see."

"I will be reserving judgment until tomorrow," she tells him with a quiet rolling snicker. "But I am definitely open to it."

* * *

Sylvie feels Matt's hand on the small of her back as they walk through the door at Molly's later that night. He probably hasn't even registered what he's doing or the message he's sending, but everyone else has. Severide and Stella exchange knowing glances, Foster hides a huge grin with a glass, and Chloe mouths 'I told you so' to Cruz. They've been outed before they've even managed a date. Figures.

It isn't until Herrmann acknowledges them as they both approach the bar that Matt catches on.

"Am I starting one tab or two?" He asks them with a smug grin.

"Funny," Matt replies dryly as he reluctantly removed his hand from Sylvie's back.

"Two," Sylvie answers, giving Herrmann her best silencing glare.

Herrmann is still grinning but he holds his hands up in a gesture of submission. "I was only asking the question on everyone's mind lately. My customers want answers and, any good businessman knows, what they want comes first."

Sylvie and Matt fight grins and simultaneously roll their eyes.

"Just bring us our usuals, Herrmann," Matt insists, a bemused look on his face.

"Coming right up," Herrmann says as he gets to work with a chuckle.

"Nice to know they care so much," Sylvie says with a deadpan tone and matching expression.

Matt snorts derisively and then laughs harder than she thinks her joke deserves. The action gains them more attention than they had before. Matt Casey laughing isn't a regular sight - not in recent years anyway. But he looks genuinely amused by her so she knows his laughter isn't exaggerated. She should also mention a laugh looks too damn good on his face and every woman in the bar notices.

He leans toward her with a fully formed teeth exposing smile, that almost stops her heart, and speaks, "You know how to pick your moments, Sylvie Brett. It's a talent that's unexpected and I like it a lot."

She blushes furiously as Herrmann returns with their drinks and smiles so hard her cheeks actually start to hurt. "I don't think anyone's ever complimented my timing before."

"Well, they should have. It's sharp," Matt tells her with a playful wink. "Let me know when you're ready to go. I'll be around."

She nods mutely and blinks after him. He winked at her. Matt Casey _winked_. Seeing this different and more intimate side of him is going to be an _experience_. She can already tell.

"Partner," Foster calls as she pats the empty chair next to her and across from Stella. "You've got some explaining to do."

Sylvie sighs, grabs her drink, and crosses the room to her friends. She fills in the empty chair Foster saved for her and then turns to Stella and Emily expectantly. "Yes?"

"Do you remember yesterday? When we were in the locker room at 51 and you told us that you and Casey were just friends?" Foster asks with a critical raised brow.

"I do," Stella answers, raising her hand.

"Well, Matt Casey just laughed, like full out belly laughed, smiled _with teeth_, and _winked_ all in less than five minutes. At _you_, by the way. So, shall we try that conversation again?" Emily asks with sideways smirk.

Sylvie can't help but beam at them. She rubs her sore cheeks and then takes a long swig of her beer to hopefully give her time to stop blushing. It doesn't work. So she takes another swig and clears her throat, readying herself to admit the beautiful truth.

"He kissed me," she confesses. "And said a lot of really wonderful things afterward too."

"About damn time!" Stella yells before wincing and waving an apologetic hand at the table next to them. "Sorry. Big things are happening here. Got excited."

"Took you both long enough," Foster says as she hugs Sylvie tightly. "But I am so fucking happy for you, Brett."

"Speaking of…," Stella says with a waggle of her eyebrows. "Kelly was at my place after shift today. Did the two of you take advantage of that big empty loft apartment?"

"No," Sylvie replies with wide scandalized eyes.

"What? Why the hell not?" Stella asks.

"I still have a hurt rib, you guys. I'm not cleared for _strenuous_ activity. Besides, we-we haven't even been on a date yet," Sylvie informs them with a shake of her head.

"Oh please," Foster says with a scoff. "Where there's a will, there's sure to be a sexual position. Get on top and have your way with him already, girl!"

"Oh. My God," Sylive says with a near hysterical embarrassed laugh. "Can we not talk about this right now? Casey already overheard one conversation I would have rather him not have heard and I really don't want that happening again."

Stella grins, chuckles, and then furrows her brow at Sylvie. "Wait, does that mean what I think it means? He overheard us yesterday? In the locker room?"

Sylvie nods and Foster laughs victoriously.

"Sneaky," she replies. "I underestimated him."

"He didn't overhear it on purpose," Sylvie assures her. "But I guess it was good that he did. I'm not sure I would have told him I was worried he was still caught up in Gabby if he hadn't."

"Oh my god," Kidd says as she grabs Sylvie's hand in a crushing grip. "Did he actually say with words that he's over Gabby?"

"He did," Sylvie says with a barely contained relieved smile.

"See? I told you!" Stella exclaims. "He worked it all out."

"Ancient history," Emily adds, repeating her words from earlier.

"I still find it all a little hard to believe," Brett admits. "I mean I remember his words and I definitely remember his kisses, but part of me is still afraid it'll turn out to be a dream or something. Every other relationship I've tried has gone bust, you know? What's to stop something from ruining this one too?"

"Those other relationships went bust because for some reason or another they weren't right," Stella assures her. "The love wasn't there or the timing wasn't right. You wanted one thing and they all wanted something else. I don't think that's going to happen with Casey. I know both of you pretty well and I can tell you...you want all the same things. I mean, take it one day at a time, Sylvie, but I think this time will be different."

"Don't overthink it," Foster adds with a kind smile. "Enjoy it. Keep doing exactly what you've been doing." She pauses and then grins wickedly. "Only with orgasms this time."

Sylvie nearly chokes on her beer but manages a startled laugh once she's finished swallowing. "Thanks for the advice, ladies." She gives Foster a halfhearted scolding glare. "I'll take it to heart."

"See that you do," Emiliy replies as the corners of her lips barely turn upward. "After all you've been through you deserve to get laid. _Like a lot_."

Sylvie puts an arm around Emily's shoulders and smiles gratefully at her. "Aw, Foster, thank you. That's...sweet? I guess?"

Despite how hard they work to embarrass her sometimes, she really does have the best friends a girl could ever ask for. Everyone needs someone to look out for them and push them to grow, and there's no crew better at that than Firehouse 51.


	16. Play With Fire

**A/N: **Hello! I finished chapter nineteen tonight so you guys get chapter sixteen! It's a little bit of a fluffy filler but I figure no one can get enough of happy Brettsey fluff, right? ;) Hope you guys like it!

Happy reading!

angellwings

* * *

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Play With Fire

* * *

Severide, for once, doesn't ask any questions or give him any shit about Sylvie. There's a knowing look on his face that tells Matt he doesn't need to ask questions because he already knows the answers.

"Congrats on not being a dumbass," Severide says as he tips his beer bottle at him and smirks.

"Thanks," Casey replies with a scoffing chuckle.

And then the night goes on like any other night at Molly's. Except he's more aware of Sylvie than ever before. Without even trying, he knows exactly where she is at any given moment.

The night's wrapping up and people are starting to filter out when Sylvie approaches the bar.

"Ready?" he asks as she stops next to him.

She nods. "I have a doctor's appointment in the morning and then car shopping so I should probably get some sleep."

"Right. Do you need a ride to the doctor in the morning?" Matt asks as he drops cash on the bar to settle his tab.

"If you don't mind," she answers with an apologetic smile.

"I told you," he says with a kind smile. "Anytime you need a chauffeur, I'm your guy."

"After tomorrow, hopefully I'll be able to get myself around," Sylvie tells him as they head toward the door. They step out onto the street as she continues. This time speaking under her breath, "If I can actually manage a test drive."

"Hey," he says, wrapping a gentle hand around her elbow and waiting for her eyes to meet his. Finally, she turns. Her nervous blue gaze is focused on his with her teeth sunk into the inside of her bottom lip. "If you can't, it's no big deal. Take all the time you need, Sylvie."

She nods as her lips form a stern line. "I know. I just...I'm frustrated with this whole thing. My life finally starts to feel like it's moving forward again and somehow I'm still stuck. I need them to find this guy so I can truly put all this behind me." Her head shakes and she swallows thickly. "I haven't had an update from Spencer in awhile. I don't think that's a good sign."

His hand moves from her elbow, slides down her forearm, until he can link their fingers together. He squeezes her hand before addressing her concerns. "Take it one thing at a time. We'll focus on getting you back to work and back behind the wheel. We'll worry about Spencer later.

She drifts closer until they're close enough for an embrace, but she doesn't make a move to put her arms around him. Instead, she grabs his other hand and closes her eyes.

"I know you don't mind shuttling me around places, Matt, but...being dependent on other people to get to things like doctor's appointments makes me feel like a burden or an obligation and I haven't felt like that in a long time. Not since-not since coming to Chicago." She pauses and sighs tiredly. Her eyes open again, but they don't find him. Even, without direct contact he can tell they're half lidded and exhausted.

He forgets, sometimes, how not being in her own space or keeping up with her own routine might affect her. It would be difficult to not have any space of your own to claim. Especially for someone who's become as independent as he knows Sylvie to be.

She releases his hands. Her left hand goes to her right wrist, to fiddle with her watch band. He's watched her do that several times before. Always when she's anxious or nervous. "So, it's not easy for me. And it's not that I don't want your help or that I'm not grateful for it-_please_ don't think that-"

He lightly encircles her wrist with his fingers, covering her watch band, causing him to successfully earn back her worried stare.

"I don't," he assures her. "I understand."

She sniffles and nods. He hears unshed tears in her voice when she responds. "Thank you."

He shifts back to holding her hand with their fingers laced together. "Come on," he says as he nods in the direction of his truck. "Let's get out of here."

He opens the passenger side door for her but before she climbs in she steps into his space and gives him a slow open mouthed kiss. Her hands drift from his shoulders to the back of his head where her fingers comb through his short hair. He feels her gratitude and hope in the action. It's only their third kiss ever so he's not sure he should be able to discern her emotions so easily so soon, but he is and he can. He meets her lips, movement for movement once he can push aside his amazement. He releases the car door to wrap his arms around her and pull her closer.

The need for air and the reflection of passing headlights pulls him out of the haze of Sylvie (and her kisses that seem to drug and distract him all at once). He grins against her lips and then leans back to meet her eyes, which are now considerably brighter.

"What was that about?" He asks with curious raised eyebrows.

"That was for listening," she replies honestly. "For not assuming the worst. For...being a safe space." She chuckles dryly and lifts one shoulder with playful carelessness. "For basically everything, I guess."

"Well, of all the possible thank you gestures, that's definitely the one I would choose," he replies with a smirk.

She laughs and rolls her eyes. "Never would have guessed. Come on, let's go home."

She steps into the truck, leaving him behind to register her words. It's a small thing, but hearing Sylvie refer to the apartment as 'home' feels entirely too gratifying.

* * *

The whole drive home all Sylvie can think about is how wonderful Matt's been about this insane situation and how _good_ it feels to kiss him. Or how his arms around her waist and her chest pressed against his feels a little _too_ perfect. Part of her thoughts have been instigated by Emily and Stella's words at Molly's so she tries to shove them aside. She doesn't mind taking things slow with Matt.

Looking back, she realizes things with Kyle moved _too _quickly. Before that, her relationship with Antonio, that seemed huge at the time, now feels like a flash in the pan. She was talking him into seeing her one week and then suddenly attending his parent's anniversary dinner the next. So, to her, going slowly with Matt meant taking the time to get it _right._ And if she ever wanted to get it right with _anyone_ then she wanted to get it right with Casey.

But, on the other hand, how long had she and Matt been dancing around their feelings? Since before Gabby came back certainly, but pinpointing it further back to before Kyle's proposal was looking more and more likely. She hadn't imagined an almost kiss after changing the bandage on the burn on his neck. Initially she thought maybe she had, but now...now she knows she didn't.

They've had time to think about this and consider their feelings. Would it really be moving too fast if she wanted him to keep kissing and touching her for the rest of the night?

No, she thinks immediately while her face flushes and her imagination runs away with her. Her body reacts to her daydreams and it hits her, all at once, just how much she wants Matt Casey to herself for an entire night. No, it definitely wouldn't be moving too _fast_.

But not tonight. It's already late and she does actually have a doctor's appointment in the morning. Showing up to her doctor's appointment with dark circles under her eyes probably wouldn't be the best idea. Plus, just because she doesn't think it would be too much too soon, doesn't mean Casey will agree. They should have a conversation about it first.

Once inside the apartment, Matt drops his keys on the counter and then slowly reels her into his side with a wide smile.

"What?" She asks as she reflexively smiles in return.

He shrugs. "Just happy to have you here, that's all."

It's times like this that she wishes she could read his mind because that sentiment seems to come from nowhere. She knows him and she knows it doesn't, but she has no clue what thoughts led him there.

She blushes and rests her hands on his shoulders. "I can't say I'm a fan of the circumstances but I do like seeing you so much outside of work. It's been fun doing normal people things with you. And not, you know, running into danger multiple times a day."

He laughs softly and nods his agreement. "Yes, that has been nice. Though, if I'm running into danger, I'd rather do it with you as my backup on Ambo 61."

"Ambo and Truck 81 do make a pretty solid team," she agrees, grinning flirtatiously at him.

"Speaking of having you on Ambo 61," he begins. "What time is your appointment in the morning?"

"Nine," she answers. "My rib feels a lot stronger. I'm sure it'll be fine."

"It still twinges sometimes though," he says as his eyes narrow on her suspiciously. "Don't try and deny it."

"I would never deny it," she assures him. "My best friends are a bunch of first responders who will all very easily see straight through me. There's no point."

He scoffs and lets out a short good humored laugh. "Damn right, there's no point. Especially for you, you wear your heart on your sleeve, Sylvie Brett. It's why you can't keep a secret to save your life."

"I can keep a secret!" She protests feebly.

He quirks a brow at her and gives her a knowing glance, but says nothing.

"Okay, so I can't," she admits with a sheepish grin. "Secrets come with a lot of pressure! Keeping them also typically involves some form of lying and I'm truly horrendous at lying."

"I'm aware," Casey replies with a dry smirk.

"Jerk," she teases.

"What? It's cute," he assures her, grinning easily. "Admirable, even."

She makes a disbelieving noise but smiles at him anyway. "I really should go to bed."

Matt nods and reluctantly releases her. "Right, okay."

Before he can step completely away she grabs his hand and tugs him toward her. "Come with me."

"What?" He asks with a mild startled stare.

"I don't mean-" she cuts herself off and then lets go of his hand to idly grab her wrist. She probably went about that all wrong. His reaction wasn't exactly positive. Maybe he thought she was being too forward. "Nothing has to happen, Casey. That's not what I meant. It's just that we're both adults, you know, and I really do hate that you have to sleep on the couch because of me and I thought now that we're...trying something it wouldn't be a big deal to..." Her nervous rambling starts to run out of steam as her face heats with mortification. "You know what? Nevermind. It's fine. Forget I said anything."

She turns to leave and hopes they can both pretend she kept her big mouth shut. God, she's a dork. How does she always manage to make things awkward with Matt?

"No, wait," Casey says as he hurriedly steps around her to cut off her speedy retreat. "I didn't say no, Sylvie. You just surprised me. That's all. Are you sure you'd be okay with that?"

"You mean do I think you might attack me at any given moment?" Sylvie asks him with a teasing quirk of her brow. "Matt, you have the most self control of any man I've ever met," she tells him with a light laugh. "I trust you."

Honestly, she's a little more worried about herself than him, but there's no reason for him to have to sleep cramped up on the couch anymore. Plus, she'd feel less guilty about crashing with him and Severide if she wasn't putting anyone out of a bed. She thought about offering to switch now that her rib doesn't hurt as much but something told her Matt would never go for that.

"If it keeps you from trying to force your way onto the couch then I'm all for it," Matt agrees as the corner of his mouth ticks upward. His expression is entirely too confident. Even if he's completely right.

"You know me a little too well, I think," Sylvie responds with a soft laugh, and as it turns out she also knows him a little too well.

"Not possible," Matt tells her sincerely. "There's still a lot more to learn."

"Oh, yeah?" She asks, smiling affectionately at him. "Like what?"

He grabs her hand and pulls her down the hall toward the bedroom. "Like, what kind of toothpaste does Sylvie Brett use? How much toothpaste does she use? Does she do as the dentist tells her and floss every day? Does she always wear pajamas with quirky prints to bed? You see? Still plenty of questions."

"Crest with Scope, half what they show in the toothpaste commercials because that's a scam and no one needs to use that much toothpaste, if the dentist says to floss then of course I floss, and no sometimes I wear plain sweats," she answers as they stop by the doorway. "Any more questions?"

"You change, I'll brush my teeth and then I'm sure I'll have some more by the time we swap places," he tells her as his eyes shine with amusement.

"First," she says as she rests her back against the open doorway. "I have a question of my own."

"Yes?" He asks as he props a hand on the wall over her shoulder and leans toward her.

"Left side or right side of the bed?"

"Left," he answers as a smile slowly spreads across his lips. "You?"

"The right." She pauses and reflects his slow smile back at him. "Isn't that interesting?"

"It's certainly convenient," he replies. He pushes further into her space but stops with his lips hovering over hers. His gaze drifts to her mouth and then back up to focus on her eyes. "I really want to kiss you right now but, if we plan to share that bed tonight and our date isn't until tomorrow, I probably shouldn't."

"You're _probably_ right," she agrees, halfheartedly. "We play with fire enough as it is."

"Tomorrow," he promises. "As much as I possibly can without crossing a line."

"Until our car shopping date?" She asks.

He nods and then forces himself to take a step back from her.

She smirks at him with a heated expression before following up with another question. "And _after_ the date?"

He shoves his hands in his pockets and studies the floor for a moment before meeting her eyes again. The crooked sinful grin on his face and the pure want in his eyes when he looks back up at her steals the breath from her lungs. But he plays it off with a casual shrug. "I suppose I'll leave that up to you."

Up to her, huh? If that's the case then she could tell him exactly how she intends for their date to end _right now_. "Well, then I have a few ideas. Ideas I think you'll _really _like."

"Hold on to those," he insists as he turns to head toward the bathroom. "We'll be revisiting them tomorrow."

God, she hopes so, she thinks as she watches him retreat down the hall. Sharing a bed tonight is going to be hard enough, but waiting another day after tomorrow? _Impossible._


	17. Worth a Shot

**A/N: **Finished chapter 20 today! So you guys get chapter 17! Happy reading!

angellwings

* * *

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: Worth a Shot

* * *

Casey wakes up the next morning knowing something's different. He's in his room and his bed. It should all be inherently familiar but _something_ has changed. There's a soft sleepy hum to his left that fills his chest with warm affection. He turns his head, following the sound, and finds the back of a blonde head.

Sylvie.

She didn't want him stuck on the couch last night so they shared the bed.

Very innocently shared the bed.

There's another hum from his bed partner a moment before she rolls toward him. He smiles with fond amusement as she buries her face in the crook of his neck and wraps her arms around his middle. He reciprocates the embrace and presses his lips to the top of her head. He should have told her how he felt much sooner and then maybe they could have been sleeping like this all along. It was the best sleep he's had in a while and it's not just because of the bed. It's also because of his companion.

He finds himself not wanting to move. He knows he'll have to eventually, but for right now lying here with Sylvie feels too good - too _right_. Since rolling into him, he's realized she fits. She fits against him like she's meant to be there. Like she's meant to fit any where he is, really. He's been trying to take things slowly with her since this all started, or at least since he decided to stop denying his feelings, but right now he can't help but hope this might be the first of many mornings like this. For once, he doesn't give a damn if that's thinking too far ahead or taking things a bit too fast. He wants it. He wants _her_. He wants as many mornings with her as he can get.

He's not sure what that means for how he feels but he thinks it takes him past "like" and well into the territory of "love". He knows it will take a bit more examination and soul searching before he's even close to ready to say it outloud. He still doesn't want to rush anything and they haven't even been on a date yet. Not only that, but Sylvie may not be in the same headspace as him. Moving too quickly on what he suspects he feels has the potential to scare her away and that's the last thing he wants.

What he wants is to finally get things started. He wants to feel like they'll stop standing still and begin moving forward _together_. Like the way he feels like they did last night. They trusted each other and talked and made a decision (even if it was a relatively small one) _together_. It felt like a big moment to him. So does _today_.

Starting _today_ of all days like this seems fitting. Today is important, on many fronts. Sylvie gets an update from her doctor that _should_ confirm she's on schedule to be back at work in two weeks. They go on their date. And then in the midst of those two things, Brett may walk away with a new car.

He checks the time on his bedside clock and bites back a groan. As comfortable as he is right now, it's time to get up. Sylvie has a doctor's appointment in two hours. They both need to get ready and find something to eat.

He rubs a hand up and down Sylvie's arm and speaks against the top of her head.

"Brett," he says loudly.

She stirs very slightly but doesn't wake up. If anything she burrows deeper into him.

He laughs lightly and tries again, louder than before. "Sylvie."

She groans tiredly but opens one eye and leans back to glance up at him. "Casey?"

"Good morning," he says, shooting her a mirthful grin. "How'd you sleep?"

She covers a yawn before she replies in a voice that's groggy from sleep. "Unusually good. I wonder why that is?"

"Couldn't say," he quips with feigned cluelessness. "Whatever it is helped me too. Slept like a log."

"Can't be the bed. We've both slept in it, separately," she says with a knowing grin while arching her back and stretching her arms over her head.

Any other time, he'd pointedly look away, but he and Brett had crossed a few lines already so he let himself take her in from head to toe. The curve of her spine and her neck evoke certain images that have haunted him at various points since he began sharing space with Sylvie. The blood heats in his veins and makes him restless. He pulls them both into a sitting position, with their backs against the headboard, and takes a closer look at her early morning state. There's no makeup on her face and her hair is mussed from sleep. She even has a few sleep lines on her face from the pillow case. Despite waking up, she hasn't put any distance between them. She's still curled into him with her legs bent at the knees. Her knees pressed against his thighs. The buttoned up top of yet another set of quirky print pajamas peeks out above the covers as they pool at their waists.

Basically, she's _adorable._ Breathtaking. Beautiful. Enticing.

He can't help himself from cupping the side of her face and pulling her lips to his for a soft kiss. He's careful not to push it too much further. As much as he wants her, he's serious about taking his time and getting it right. Now is not the time. Not before her doctor's appointment, not before she's about to face the idea of driving again - not _before_ their date. He keeps the kiss soft and light, even when Brett's arms wrap tighter around him and all he wants to do is pull her into his lap. He pulls away from the kiss and rests his forehead against hers.

"We should really start getting ready," he suggests.

"Please, I'll end up sitting in that waiting room forever anyway," Sylvie says invitingly. "We have time."

He smirks. "Sure, we have time, but not _enough_ time. I've been trying not to rush anything with you. That includes whatever you have in mind right now."

"Oh, what? Like it's not on your mind too?" She asks with a cheeky grin.

"Oh, no, it is. It's on my mind a _lot_, but the first time we go any further than we already have is not going to be a morning quickie," Matt declares, tossing her a determined look.

She releases an overexaggerated sigh and pulls away from him with a playful glare. "Why do you have to be such a _good_ guy? And why do I have to find it so attractive?"

"You're not exactly lacking in goodness yourself or else you wouldn't think I'm right," He says with confident certainty.

Sylvie lets out a short affirmative grunt as if she's agreeing with him but she wishes she didn't have to and he finds himself completely charmed by it. She pulls back the covers and then grabs her phone off the nightstand to check the time.

"Coffee, shower, dress," Sylvie says to herself as she steps out of bed. "Then the doctor."

"Speaking of the doctor," Matt says as he gets up from the bed to join her. "How's your rib feel?"

"As long as I don't make any sudden movements, I'm fine," she tells him. "And getting better every day."

Which is exactly what the doctor confirms later that morning. She's actually healing faster than the doctor expected, but as a precaution he's still keeping her out of any strenuous work for two more weeks. Casey's relieved, but Sylvie is frustrated. He can't blame her for it even if he agrees with the doctor.

She sighs as they settle in to a booth at a quaint diner near the doctor's office. "I am grateful to be back in the firehouse but I'm so bored of the bullpen," she tells him. "Plus, I'm much more comfortable when Foster has an incompetent partner, as awful as that is to say. Rafferty's too good at her job. I mean, there's no chance that somebody somewhere will leave her at 51 and reassign me, is there?"

He's almost certain he looks at her like she's lost her mind. Probably not the best reaction as it might come off as invalidating her fears but he can't help it. That's a ridiculous suggestion. "Hell no," Matt insists. "And yeah Rafferty's extremely capable but you're one of the best there is, Sylvie Brett. There's not a snowball's chance in hell of it happening in the first place but, even if somebody tried it, Boden wouldn't let it happen and I wouldn't let it happen. It's just two more weeks. You'll be back in 61 with Foster in no time."

Sylvie smiles slowly at him and then chuckles. "Thank you. I also appreciate how preposterous you made that whole scenario seem."

"Sorry," he says with a wince. "I didn't mean that I didn't understand why you might-"

"No, Casey, I'm serious. I liked it," she repeats, grinning brightly at him. "It was the kind of knee jerk, highly offended reaction, that makes a girl feel important."

Knee jerk, highly offended reactions had a history of not working out in his favor. He's glad this one did. "You are important," he insists as he meets her eyes. "Important to 51 and...important to _me_."

She blushes, nods, and glances down at her menu with a wide smile. "You're important to me too, Matt Casey." There's a beat of quiet. It's a moment that's pleasantly charged with anticipatory tension until Sylvie's eyes widen with childlike delight and her finger jabs at the menu. "Oh my god, they have funfetti pancakes. I don't care if it's on the kid's menu, I'm ordering it."

He chuckles softly, feeling completely enchanted by the woman sitting across from him, and shakes his head at her. "I hope you're at least getting eggs or bacon with those pancakes."

"Of course," she replies. "Protein is very important. Especially if the rest of your meal is covered in sprinkles."

She looks so deathly serious that he can't keep himself from laughing. "Makes sense. I'll remember that."

Their knees bump under the table as they place their order with the waitress. Sylvie stretches her legs, so that they rest between his feet, crossed at the ankles. It's not a big deal, they're not even really touching, but it feels like an expression of how familiar they are with each other. Maybe now that she's comfortable, he can bring up something that might be a bit emotionally charged.

"So," Matt says as he wraps his hands around his coffee mug. He feels nervous. He and Sylvie have talked about emotional topics before but talking about real challenges with a romantic partner has always been a crapshoot for him. "Are we still looking at the same kind of cars as last time? Or could you maybe be talked into something that sits a little higher off the ground?"

"Higher off the ground?" Sylvie asks. "What? Like an SUV?" Her face scrunches with distaste and he finds it much too cute. "I really don't see myself driving something that big. I mean, I can. It's just a little much for one person."

"But if you're higher off the ground, in something a little bigger," he clarifies. "It's safer. Might _feel_ safer too."

She bites the inside of her cheek and nods thoughtfully, but doesn't reply. He's afraid he might have offended her or crossed some sort of line. So he rambles on in a gentler tone.

"You don't have to. I'm not trying to tell you what to do. It's just I think last time, maybe, you didn't feel secure and it might have contributed to what happened."

Her eyes lift from the table and she raises her mug to her lips. She keeps the mug hovering at her mouth and stares at its contents. Her eyes look a little haunted and he hates it.

"You might be right," she replies. "Something taller or slightly larger than a sedan might help. Maybe it's not even about safety. Maybe I just need something that won't remind me of the wreck."

He reaches a hand across the table and pulls one of hers away from the mug, squeezing it as he pulls back down to the tabletop. "You could try a wagon or one of those crossover vehicles. Whatever you want. But I think you might do better if we don't limit ourselves to a small sedan like what you had before."

"Worth a shot," she says with a thick swallow and a self deprecating grin. "Can't go any worse than last time, right?"

"Nah," he says, giving her a reassuring smile. "You'll be great. You'll see."

"You have to say that," she quips with a crooked smirk. "Since we are technically on a date."

"I'm right," he insists. "Downplay it all you want, but you're stronger than you think you are. A little car shopping is nothing. It doesn't stand a chance against you."

Her eyes glisten at the encouragement. Her smile is small but poignant. He knows he's managed to find the right words and there's no single descriptor he can think of to express how powerful that makes him feel. Doing right by Sylvie Brett is dangerous. It lights him up from the inside out - like an incendiary device has been triggered in his veins. It hits every nerve center he has as it explodes and leaves him more energized than he was before. His heartbeat is pounding against his ribs and his pulse is racing, leaving him to wonder how many more times he can experience this sort of thrill before he keels over completely.

He doesn't know, but he's more than willing to keep trying until he finds out.


	18. This Is Gonna Be Fun

**A/N: **So, if you've been keeping up with the COVID-19 news, One Chicago filming has been postponed. The season may or may not be ending with 8x20. We haven't heard anything official but supposedly there are sources saying Dick Wolf shows are just wrapping their seasons now as opposed to delaying filming to finish out their 22-23 episode orders. We'll see but hopefully if that's the case it means we'll get more episodes in season 9 to make up for it.

In other news, I finished writing chapter 21 so now you guys get chapter 18! Part 2 of the date! ;) The post date after party continues in chapter 19 so keep an eye out for that.

Happy reading!

angellwings

* * *

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: This Is Gonna Be Fun

* * *

She takes a deep breath as the salesman pulls up in a Subaru Forester. They're not going to drive it yet, but he's pulling it around so they can sit in it and take in the details. It's the first step. He doesn't keep the car running, but he opens all the doors and the back hatch. Sylvie sits in the driver's seat and catalogues her feelings.

No anxiety yet. Her breathing is even. Her hands aren't sweating.

The buzzing whir of electronics hits her ears and she turns her head to find Casey, standing outside the car, looking down at the seat adjustment buttons on the side of the passenger seat. He's moving the seat as far forward as possible for reasons unknown. She watches him curiously as he flips the lever on the side and pushes the back of the seat closer to the dash.

Eventually, this inspection reaches a point where she has to ask.

The corner of her mouth pulls upward into a barely there grin. "What are you doing?"

He looks up with a smirk and shrugs as their eyes connect. His stare is more flirtatious than she's ever seen - pointed at her at least. "Just checking out the backseat. Seeing how much space we might be able to create for...potential _activities_."

It doesn't take much to figure out what 'activities' he might be referring to. She laughs loudly and then brings a hand to her mouth to cover the sound. She blushes as she gets her laughter under control and then nods. "Okay, good work. Carry on."

If he intended to distract her from her nerves, then job well done because now all she can think about is choosing a car for backseat makeouts with Matt Casey.

"This is nice," Sylvie says as she places her hands on the wheel and glances around at the interior. "Roomier than my old car." She turns a slight grimace to Matt as she leans across the middle console to speak softly. She's not sure the salesman should hear her. "Pricier too, though."

He nods. "Yeah, but Subarus have a good safety reputation. Might be worth the upcharge." He pauses, gives her a searching glance, and then asks, "Feel like taking it for a ride?"

She swallows thickly and glances away from him, out the windshield. "Not yet, no."

She steps out of the car and then walks around to the passenger side with Casey. She shouldn't be afraid of his reaction to her answer, but some part of her is.

His hand finds her elbow and squeezes it gently. "Alright, that's fine. No rush. What else do you want to look at? Maybe this one just isn't the right car for you."

"Um, yeah, okay," she replies as she thinks back on the list they cobbled together over breakfast. "Severide's text said Toyotas are reliable. So, maybe the Rav4?"

He takes her hand and leads her over to the salesman where they all discuss potential alternatives. He takes back the Forester and then leads them to a Rav4 they have parked inside the dealership's showroom. He keeps a hold of her hand as they walk from car to car and manages to check in with her state of mind without coming off as coddling. He's honestly sincere and it keeps her from being annoyed with him like she might someone else.

"Here," the salesman says as he leads them back outside to a small crossover vehicle. "This is the Chevy Trax. It's a good solid car that's very budget friendly, and it has a lot of newer technology in it. Even Wi-Fi."

Matt's brow furrows and then he scoffs. It's an adorably grumpy face and Sylvie presses her lips together to keep from laughing at him.

"Why the hell would a car need Wi-Fi?" he asks, looking utterly confounded.

She releases his hand to loop her arm through his and then pats his arm with her other hand. "It's for people who use their phones for more than phone calls and texts," she assures him with obvious laughter hidden in her voice. "In other words, not you."

"Could be good for you though, right?" He asks as he embraces her teasing with a crooked grin. "With that app you use to make all those playlists? That spot-whatever-it-is."

This time she doesn't bother holding back her soft laugh. "Spotify."

He points at her as he recognizes the name. "That's the one."

"You're cute," she tells him before leaning up to kiss his cheek with a fond smile. "And yes, I could use that. I use a lot of data listening to music."

She squeezes his arm before she releases it to open the driver's side door. The price point is better on this car and the inside does look inviting. She's still not sure she really wants something bigger than a sedan but...she can't find out unless she tries, right?

"Okay," she declares, feigning confidence. "Let's try this one."

Casey's eyebrows lift and he smiles encouragingly. "Yeah?"

She nods. "Yeah. I'll test drive it."

"Alright!" the salesman exclaims with exaggerated excitement. "I'll go get the keys." He holds out his hand for a high five. Sylvie and Matt share an amused look before Sylvie reluctantly grants his request.

"He's a little…"

"Enthusiastic?" Sylvie suggests kindly.

Matt chuckles and then smiles so wide that his eyes crinkle around the corners. She admits his smile already has a little too much power over her, but there's nothing she can do about that now.

"We'll go with that," he agrees.

She sucks in a breath. It feels thin and ragged. A few nerves are surfacing now that the keys are on their way. She grabs Casey's hand and laces their fingers together. "I can do this, right? I mean, _you think _I can do this?"

He leans down slightly to be eye level with her and nods. Before he answers her, he squeezes her hand. "I think Sylvie Brett can do anything she sets her mind to."

And just like that, she feels like she can _actually_ do anything. It's funny the effect the right person believing in you can have. She snatches the keys out of the salesman's hands when he returns. A determination unlike any other she's felt suddenly takes hold of her. She is going to conquer this fear. The psychotic asshole who came after Hope will _not _win today.

She _will _do this.

Matt takes shotgun, the salesman is in the back. This time when she turns the key and the engine roars to life, she doesn't freeze. There's no panic. No waking nightmares. She's present and in the moment.

She's Sylvie Brett, with two Ts, and she will not be stopped. She switches the car from park to drive and then lets out a soft delighted squeal — just loud enough for only Matt to hear — as her foot hits the gas. She's doing it! She's moving the car. She's a fucking bad ass!

She's learning something new today. Facing a fear is a thrill that's better than any roller coaster she's ever been on. She feels accomplished. Invincible. _Strong. _Or maybe it's not facing the fear that's doing that.

Maybe it's Matt.

Or, more likely, it's _both_.

Honestly, it doesn't matter why. What matters...is that she is _so _doing this test drive thing _again_. And again. _And again_. Until the thrill fades away.

If it ever does.

* * *

Sylvie Brett giddy on life is a sight to behold. Holy shit. He thought seeing her happy was bright and bold enough, but it doesn't hold a candle to this. This is a Brett who feels unstoppable and he can feel himself actively falling in love with her.

Despite walking away without a vehicle to show for it, she's practically skipping back to his truck. If she wasn't holding his hand, he has a feeling she'd dart away from him just to burn off some energy.

"Matt," she practically sings in a tone that sounds like it's been candied and dipped in sprinkles.

What's happening between them is new, but he knows she wants something. It's the voice and the way she drew out his first name. He hates that he can already feel the yes on the tip of his tongue. She's so joyful right now that he'd do whatever she wanted to keep that going.

"Sylvie," he replies with a playful glare.

"Since I've been doing so well with these test drives, I was wondering…" She pauses mid-stride and tugs him to a stop with her. Her smile grows, showing off the stunning brightness of her too-perfect teeth. "Would you mind terribly, if I drove us home?"

Oh god, she knows what she's doing. The sweetness in her voice, her pretty smile, the use of the word 'home'. Shit, he's a goner. He doesn't stand a chance of resisting her.

"You want to drive my truck?" He asks, like a stunned idiot. Let's be real, that's exactly what he is.

Her eyes narrow with a teasing gleam in them. "You think I can't do it? I grew up on a farm. My dad taught me how to drive in a pick up."

One side of his mouth quirks upward and one eyebrow goes right along with it. Mostly because she's adorable but also because he's all for random facts about Sylvie Brett before she set foot in Chicago. "Is that right?"

"Mhm. I can probably parallel park that beauty better and faster than you ever could," she brags as she places her free hand on her hip.

"That's a ballsy claim," he replies with an intrigued and amused glance. "Alright," he says as he fishes his keys out of his pocket and dangles them in front of her. "Let's see what you got, Farm Girl."

She releases his hand to grab the keys and smirks triumphantly at him. "This is gonna be fun."

It already is, he thinks with a soft chuckle. It says a lot that he's willing to let her drive his truck. He doesn't mind riding shotgun in other people's cars but his truck is his livelihood so he's never really been able to part with his keys for very long. But if it means more of this brazen and cocky Sylvie Brett then he's all for it.

She's right. She's a pro at driving his truck.

"This is nothing," she tells him with a boastful smile. "You should see me on the tractor back home."

He's never had a farmer's daughter kink before but he's beginning to see the appeal. "Tractor?"

She nods and winks at him. "My favorite is the tractor with the Loader on it."

And now they're getting into construction equipment. Jesus Christ. The image of Sylvie Brett on one of his construction sites is lethal.

"You wear hardhats out there on the farm?" He asks with a small grin.

She answers him but it comes out like a question as her face scrunches in confusion. "No?"

"That's too bad," he replies as he sweeps an appreciative glance over her. She looks damn good in his drivers' seat. "You'd pull off that look better than any of the guys I use on my jobs."

"Oh really?" She asks, catching up with his thoughts and letting a sultry smile slide across her lips. "Do they come in pink?"

He laughs loudly and shrugs. "You know, I have no clue."

"Well, if they come in pink then I should definitely get one."

He shakes his head at her as he continues to laugh. "Do you want a pink tool belt too?"

She smiles at him, looking happy to continue this bit as long as it amuses him. "Oh! Yes, absolutely. Coordination is important."

"You're adorably ridiculous. You know that, right?" He asks her with a grin.

"Hey, you're the one trying to imagine me as a construction worker. I don't think I'm the one who's being ridiculous," she says as she lifts one hand from the wheel to pat his thigh.

It's the most patronizing thing he's ever seen her do. It's fucking attractive as hell. This new flirtatious side of Sylvie is immensely entertaining. How has he ever done without it?

The minute they get back to the apartment he is kissing her senseless. She's too enticing to resist like a euphoric force of sunlight drawing him into her orbit. He's been slowly drifting toward her and trying to resist it for far too long. He's not doing that anymore. From now on, he's leaning into it, wholly and completely.


	19. Allow Me

**A/N: **HERE IT IS, GUYS. THE RATING CHANGER. THE SMUT. THE NSFW CONTENT (not that most of you are able to go to work lol. Fuck COVID-19!). Did I mention this chapter contains sexy times? YUP IT DOES. ;) Anywayyyyssss. Hope you guys enjoy it!

Happy reading!

angellwings

PS - NEW CHICAGO FIRE THIS WEEK. YAY.

* * *

CHAPTER NINETEEN: Allow Me

* * *

She chooses to parallel park his truck outside of their building — to show off — because she's right. She is better and faster at parallel parking his truck than he is.

She cuts the engine and drops his keys in his hand with a cheeky smile.

"Told ya."

Her brightness and that smile pull him toward her. Now that she's no longer driving, he's free to distract her. The keys end up dropped in the cup holder as his hands frame her face guide her grinning lips to his. He grins too before delving back in, their mouths opening, and tongues tangling. She throws her arms around his neck and pulls him as close as she can across the truck seats.

It's not close enough for his liking. He pulls away, stealing two or three short kisses as he goes, grabs the keys out of the cup holder and gestures toward the building with a nod. She takes the hint and hops out of the truck cab. When she rounds the truck he grabs her hand and pulls her into his side. He releases her hand to secure an arm around her waist. Her arm goes around his back as they walk side by side.

When they reach the door to the loft, Sylvie presses her back against it and faces him. It forces him in close proximity while he unlocks the door. Sylvie tucks her hands behind her back and settles a smug challenging look on him. It's as if she's daring him not to kiss her when she's placed herself only a few inches away from him. He dips his head toward hers as he turns the lock and ghosts a kiss over her lips — which he shouldn't have done. Now he's dangerously close to caving and letting her win this tension filled game of chicken. Surprisingly, he holds out a second longer than her. In one lunge, her arms go around his neck and pull his lips back to hers.

He laughs into the kiss. It shouldn't surprise him that she's putting the same level of enthusiasm into this as she does to _everything else_, but it does. In the _best _way.

He folds one arm around her and opens the door with the other while backing her into the apartment. He kicks the door shut behind him so he can fill his hands and arms with nothing but _Sylvie_ as soon as possible.

It's only then that he remembers his roommate. They may not be as alone as he thinks.

He jerks back from the kiss and glances around the apartment. "Severide?" He calls into the quiet space.

"That's encouraging to hear in the middle of a make out session." Her tone is dry and her smile is teasing as she watches Matt crane his neck around the room.

Matt guffaws and shakes his head at her. "No, I didn't look for his car outside. So, before we get much further I thought we'd better—"

"Smart," Sylvie says, cutting him off. She turns her head to look toward Kelly's room and picks up where he left off. "Severide!"

They're met with stark silence and it's music to his ears.

"Good enough for me," Matt says before he dives back in for more of her. Her mouth still tastes sweet from the pancakes she'd had for breakfast. He can't get enough of it.

She giggles into his mouth as they get back to their deep searching kisses. Her arms tighten around him and he nearly groans at how perfectly she molds herself to him. Every soft curve fits his hard lines like they were somehow built to complement each other — like they're meant to find their way here. He never would have thought that when they first met, but now…

Now it just makes good goddamn sense. _Of course_ it's Sylvie. It took them awhile to get here but somehow in the midst of his want and need the pieces snap into place. This is worth risking their friendship. Hell, this is worth risking a hell of a lot more than that. He just _knows _it. He doesn't know how he knows it...but he couldn't deny it if he tried.

Not that he would. He's done denying himself the things that he wants.

* * *

Is it strange that she's not nervous? Shouldn't she have the usual first time with someone new jitters? Because she doesn't. Not with Matt. Normally, there's a certain amount of self conscious anxiety involved for her, but all she currently feels is excitement. Yes, this is all a new level with Matt but she's not worried he'll make any sort of judgements. She knows him and he knows her. The safety and comfort of their friendship seeps into every part of their relationship.

Apparently that includes sex.

She gathers enough willpower to step away from his kisses and out of his arm. His brow furrows and he immediately reaches for her again. She laughs and places a hand on his chest to keep him at bay.

He looks completely put out, adding a frown to the deep furrow between his brows. Fondness stirs in Sylvie's chest. God, he's adorable.

"Trust me," she replies with a mirthful grin.

She reaches down to the bottom hem of her shirt and wastes no time pulling it over her head. She feels Casey stare at her. When she looks up to meet his gaze, his pouty expression is gone and replaced with something heated. _Hungry. _The shirt is tossed aside. She reaches for the fly of her jeans, but before she can pull the zipper tab down, one of Matt's hands reaches out to cover hers and stop her. She looks up in confusion, wondering why he would want her to stop, but the heat and hunger are still as powerful as ever. There's half of a wicked grin on his face as he tugs her closer, captures her lips with his, and works her fly himself.

She sucks in a sharp breath when his calloused hands skim over her waist and then slide under the waistband of her jeans. He pushes them down, past her ass, thighs, and knees. She kicks them off the rest of the way, along with her shoes. She helps Matt follow suit. Shoes, shirt, jeans. They all join hers on the floor.

They stop when they're standing across from each other in their underwear. Matt's eyes pour over her from head to toe. She takes him in as well. She's seen him in his underwear before but it's a completely different experience now. Especially given how his boxers have tented - just for her.

His hands reach for her. Their gentle touch contradicts the calluses on his skin. One hand reels her in closer while the other brushes the faded bruising on her abdomen, just over her injured side. She realizes now that, given where her injuries from the accident are located, he's never really seen them. He's heard about them. He knows they're there. But he's never seen tangible proof of them.

His lips land on hers again and, like the others, this kiss takes her breath away but for a completely different reason. It's an open earnest kiss that leaves her feeling seen and valued. She's not sure how it's possible to taste emotions in someone's kiss but she definitely tastes gratefulness and relief in his. It almost feels like a delayed reaction to the crash. His hand travels further down, stopping to reverently trace the scars left behind by the gashes on her thigh and knee. The stitches were removed nearly a week ago. She remembers telling him about it. The concern in his eyes during that conversation in his touch now. She knows it's not possible, but somehow his touch soothes her wounds - internal and external.

If anyone's hands were ever discovered to have the ability to heal, she'd place all her bets on Matt's. They're certainly doing wonders for her.

He halts their kisses and rests his forehead against hers. When their eyes connect, she's unsurprised to see worry lingering in his.

"Is your rib gonna be okay if we…"

His sentence trails off and she smiles affectionately at him. She runs a hand over his jaw as she replies.

"Don't worry about my rib, Matt. It's fine."

One brow ticks upward and his gaze turns stern. "Sylvie."

"I'm healing ahead of schedule. Remember?"

"And yet still not cleared for duty," he gently reminds her.

"I'm not waiting two weeks for this," she declares with a frustrated sigh. "Isn't it enough that I have to sit in that bullpen for three more shifts?"

Fond amusement shines in his eyes and goose bumps pebble her skin as his hand traces up her side, over her shoulders, and then upward still to cup the side of her face.

"I'm not saying we wait," he replies. "I'm just wondering if we need to make any...special accommodations."

She laughs lightly at his choice of words. "Special accomodations? Are you moonlighting at a hotel as a concierge or something?"

He chuckles and gives her a playfully irritated glance. "You are trying my patience, woman."

Her laughter carries over into her words as she gives him a serious response. "I mean, honestly, I'm not sure. It still aches sometimes if I move too fast, push myself too hard, or if there's a lot of pressure on top of it. So, maybe we just take it as slow and easy as we can?"

He nods and then drops a quick kiss to her temple. "I think we can manage that." He glances around the living room for a moment before he continues. "We should probably start with relocating to the bed. Don't you think?"

"Yes, please," she answers him eagerly.

"As you wish," he snickers before threading his fingers through hers, leading her through their scattered piles of clothes, and heading for the hallway.

Is it too early to declare herself in love because honestly he's just too fucking good. "Did you just quote _the Princess Bride_ or are you actually Westley the Farm Boy?"

* * *

Slow and easy, he reminds himself as the bedroom door closes behind them. It's convenient because that's how he wanted their first time to be anyway. She's beautiful and affectionate and funny. Not to mention one of his very best friends on top of everything else. If they're taking this next step then he wants to savor it. Urgent and hard can be saved for some future date. Today, though, soft and gentle is just fine by him.

Sylvie takes the initiative, as she did with their clothes earlier, and reaches for her bra clasp. It's the first of their underwear to be removed and - _wow_ \- does he ever appreciate the view. Her nipples are already rosie and hard and all he wants to do is feel them and taste them. Jesus, she's gorgeous. He knew she stayed fit. He'd heard enough about her spin classes to know that for sure. But he'd never really looked into what kind of definition spin classes earn a person.

Now he knows.

Her stomach and her legs are beautifully toned with firm strong muscles. The definition creates lines and indentations that accentuate her creamy skin. She's fucking gorgeous. Every inch of her.

His eyes take in the black lace still covering another intriguing part of her. As badly as he wants her to remove it, there's something to be said for the anticipation she's building by keeping it from him. He circles around behind her and places a kiss on her bare shoulder and then the curve of her neck. His arms go around her, hugging her to him, and pressing her backside against the very _firm_ evidence of how much he wants her.

She sighs out a soft moan at the contact. He grins against the skin of her neck as he continues to press kisses across her shoulders and throat. While she's caught up in those kisses, he shifts his hands. One hand grasps one of her breasts, cupping and palming it. While the other slips under the elastic holding up the bit of black lace between her legs.

She whimpers and instinctively reaches back to wrap her arms around his neck as his fingers swirl and stroke over the wet bundle of nerves at her center.

"Oh, god, Matt," she rasps.

He delicately pinches her nipple and continues to massage her breast. The weight of it in his hands is better than anything he could have imagined - and yes, he has imagined it quite a few times. Meanwhile, his other hand delves lower. He dips a finger into her and keeps pressure on her swollen clit with the heel of his hand.

She cries out and holds him tighter. "Take - _Jesus,_ Casey, just take them off. _Please_."

The sultry way her voice rolls over his last name nearly pulls a groan out of his throat. That sounded _amazing_. It caused every muscle he has to twitch, and he does mean _every_ muscle.

He smirks against the shell of her ear as he replies to her request. "Take what off? Yours or mine?"

He's not prepared for the husky way she laughs at his question. There's another twitch, _everywhere_.

"Both. All of it. Whatever. Just get us naked as soon as humanly possible."

How can he refuse a request like that? Answer: he can't.

In no time at all, his boxers and her soaked scrap of lace are discarded on the floor. Sylvie turns in his arms and ravages his mouth with a searing kiss. They'd agreed on slow and gentle but this kiss is neither slow nor gentle. It's rough and hurried - like someone's who's starved digging into a gourmet meal. She jumps without warning, wrapping her legs around his waist and holding onto him for dear life. Thanks to his quick reflexes, catching her isn't a problem. The position has his hardness teasing her in the exact right spot.

This time he can't hold back the groan he releases into her mouth. It's all too goddamn perfect. She's too perfect. Bed. He needs the bed right now, and a condom. They're going to have to bring all of this down a notch. He's not going to risk making her injury worse. But he can't see himself holding back from her for much longer, either.

This first time is going to be a little faster than he intended, but he decides that's okay. They haven't even managed to have lunch yet. The day's still early. He has all day to do this again and again. He promises himself that one of those times will be so slow that she might end up considering it torture.

But _this time_, this time he'll have to prioritize gentle over slow.

He sets her down on the bed and releases her just long enough to reach into the drawer in his bedside table.

"Thank god," Sylvie exclaims with obvious relief. "I totally forgot to ask before we got this far."

He grins and then joins her on the bed, pressing his grin to her lips before he speaks. "You never have to wonder whether I've got something. I mean, you know me, right? Reliable, trustworthy-"

She nods and cuts him off with a chaste kiss. Her grin is practically radioactive while she speaks. "Mhm, and _very _good with your hands. And I'm _not_ referring to your construction gig. Just so we're clear."

He laughs and lays down next to her. "Copy."

He pulls her into his arms and maneuvers her on top of him while their mouths and tongues explore each other. She mentioned not putting too much pressure on her side so he assumes it'll be better to not have her underneath him. While he's rolling them over, she frees the condom package from his grip.

"Allow me," she practically purrs as she lowers her lips to his jaw.

His head falls back into the pillows with a low curse as she kisses a searing trail from his jaw to his chest. Holy hell, she is good at this. Her mouth is dangerous. He has a brief thought of other things she might do with that mouth in the future. That thought causes a moan to rumble up the back of his throat. Yeah, slow is definitely not in the cards this time. He was naive to think it would be.

He hears the rip of the condom wrapper a second before her hands are on him. She licks and nibbles at his chest as she rolls the condom on. The touching is torture enough but it's made ten times worse by the feeling of her wicked grin against his skin. She knows exactly how much power she holds and it's sexy as fuck.

She pulls her head up from his chest to look him in the eyes as they line themselves up, and suddenly the world around them goes completely still. This moment feels monumental even though neither of them really understand why. There's tears in her eyes and a serene smile on her face as she sinks down on top of him. Their mutual sounds of both surprise and relief fill the room.

There's a pleasurable jolt ricocheting through his body. The jolt subsides but the pleasure remains. And there's something else unfurling between them now too. Something new to him. Something he doesn't recall ever feeling before.

Sylvie feels it too if the way she's gone still above him is any indication. Neither of them move. It's as if they both want a name for the charge in the air before they're overtaken by sensation again.

It isn't until Sylvie lowers her lips to his, with her golden hair falling around them like a curtain, that he realizes what it is.

It's completion. Absolution.

The feeling of being made _whole_.

It sounds nuts and he doesn't dare say it outloud, but that is _exactly_ what they're feeling. God, how does he keep this forever? How does he avoid screwing this up the way he inevitably always does?

Sylvie's lips brush his cheek which draws his eyes to hers.

"I can _hear_ you thinking," she tells him with an affectionate smile. "Stop. Just be here."

He nods and grins before pulling her in for a soul bearing kiss. All these years, he somehow missed what was right under his nose. He had to lose everything he believed mattered in order to find her. And still, he had no idea she worked her way so far under his skin until it was much too late. She snuck in and blew his whole world apart while he wasn't looking. And that was before he knew what being with her truly felt like.

Now that he knows? Well, _damn_, it's all over. He's absolutely ruined for anyone else ever again.

She moves above him and any hope for logical thinking is lost to the feeling of her surrounding him. All his senses are working overtime because of _her_, and he hopes they never stop.

He has one last realization before he loses himself in her completely. A simple realization involving three little words. He locks away those words in a vault in the furthest corner of his mind for now. The timing isn't right. Not yet.

But the minute it is, he'll be ready.


	20. We'll Work It Out

**A/N: **I got my four chapter lead back! So you guys get another update! YAY! Also, there's a LITTLE BIT of SMUT in this chapter ;) Now that we've gone there, I can't resist. CHICAGO FIRE IS ALL NEW TONIGHT. YAY!

Happy reading!

angellwings

* * *

CHAPTER TWENTY: We'll Work It Out

* * *

Sylvie has officially found the _best_ way to wake up from a lazy afternoon catnap. Or, hell, any long stretch of sleep. Nap or sleepover doesn't matter. To make it the best all that matters is waking up with Matt Casey's head between her legs.

"Jesus, oh my god, _Matt_."

Her hands reach under the comforter for him. One finds the back of his head and the other presses into the hand he's clasped around her thigh. She arches off the bed ever so slightly, wriggling closer to his mouth on instinct.

He adjusts his hold and wraps an arm around her waist. It keeps her firmly in position no matter how her hips buck from his determined attention.

She has a particularly sensitive spot around her clit. In her entire adult life, none of her partners have discovered it — even by accident. She only knows about it thanks to the vibrator in her nightstand. She's stopped even considering that someone might find it…

Until Matt does.

She lets out a rare curse in the midst of a full body quiver and arches dramatically against the matress. _Holy shit_. There's a pause where she feels Matt's mouth form a grin. It only adds to her excitement. He can be a smug bastard when he wants to be. She freaking loves it. He's obviously pleased with that little bit of _magic_ he's uncovered. Not as pleased as _she _is, though. _Especially_ when he changes the angle of his mouth with the _intent_ of focusing on her new found weakness.

He doesn't stop until she's a shaking, writhing, nearly sobbing from the pleasure pile of boneless goo. _Twice. _She came fucking _twice_. Practically back to back. She would be mortified by the mewling whimpers and desperate moans if it hadn't all felt so damn good. She's still panting harshly, completely limp, and absolutely dazed with pleasure when Matt pushes himself up to the head of the bed and hovers with his gloriously naked form horizontal over hers. His hands are holding him up on either side of her head while he looks down at her with the biggest shit-eating grin.

"Afternoon," he greets in a feigned breezy tone. "How was your nap?"

She laughs and wraps her arms around his middle, shaking her head at him before replying. "Oh, it was great. Very fitful until _someone_ decided to wake me up and wear me out again. Now, I think I need another one. _Holy shit, _Matt. That was _unfair_."

He dips his head to place a quick kiss on the tip of her nose. "All's fair in love and war, Sylvie," he says with a wink.

"Mmkay," she replies with a playful eye roll. "Well, if we plan on sitting up or getting out of bed anytime soon you may have to carry me — thanks to your little stunt."

"Why would we get out of bed?" He asks her with a quirked brow. "I'm pretty happy right here."

She feels a smile instantly split her face at his words. The confirmation that he's having just as much fun as she is feels unbelievable. She'd spent so much time assuming this would never happen and having all of him _literally_ in front of her right now is surreal.

"So, just so you know, everything we did before I fell asleep and after I woke up exceeded any and all expectations," she tells him while she wraps her legs around his waist and skims her hands up and down his back.

"Alright, well, in that same spirit of honesty," Matt tells her as he returns her beaming smile. "I wholeheartedly agree."

He leans his weight on one arm, wraps the other one around her bare shoulders, and then flips their positions. She finds herself straddling him in an instant. He's been pulling that move a lot. She knows why. He's trying to keep pressure off her injured side.

_Beautiful, thoughtful man._

From her position on top of him, she gets a view of the alarm clock on his bedside table and winces.

"It's almost four and we never ate anything," she tells him. They're caloric intake is definitely not appropriate for the amount of calories they've already burned. How is she not famished?

"Oh, I'd say I've eaten plenty," Matt replies with a lewd smirk.

The comment is so unexpected that she has no control over the way her mouth drops open or the near obnoxious volume of her full bellied guffaw.

"Matthew Casey!" She mockingly scolds through the remnants of her laughter. "I have never seen this side of you before!" Her fingers thread through his as she leans down to smile her way into a kiss. Once that's done her mirthful gaze locks with his. "I am completely here for it."

Her one kiss turns into another solid few minutes of lazy open mouthed lip locks. She's half convinced they're on their way to never getting out of bed, just like Matt wanted, until her stomach lets out an awkward growl that interrupts the sounds of their kisses and appreciative sighs. Matt chuckles against her lips before releasing her hands to teasingly pat her ass.

"Okay, I get it," he tells her. "We need food."

"It's safe to say I've worked off those funfetti pancakes from this morning," she says with a sheepish smile.

"You mean the sugar didn't sustain you through the entire day?" He asks with a sarcastic lift of his brows. "Color me shocked."

She feigns offense and smacks his shoulder lightly. "Rude!"

"Oh, and your stomach grumbling in the middle of a make out session _wasn't_ rude?" He asks with a pointed glance.

She laughs and rolls off of him. Good God, Matt Casey in a playful mood is a powerful thing. She needs him just like this far more often. "Get up, jerk. I need hydration and protein."

She steps out of bed, scoops his t-shirt off the floor, and throws it on before walking over to her suitcase and grabbing a fresh pair of underwear. She debates putting on a pair of sleep shorts or sweats but decides against it. She doesn't hear Stella or Severide shuffling around outside of Matt's room so she assumes they're still alone. No need for pants just yet. However, socks? Very vital to her ice cold feet.

She feels a kiss against the back of her neck and then two strong arms band around her waist from behind. He is so much more touch oriented than she expected. It thrills her because touch is very much a means of affection and communication for her. It always has been. Her hands cover his as they rest on her stomach and then she lets herself lean into him. Her back against his solid chest feels perfect and the way his chin is able rest perfectly on her shoulder seems too convenient to be coincidental. They fit too well together for this relationship they're building to be a fluke or merely a result of close proximity. Everything about this seems _right_.

"What are we thinking?" He asks before kissing her neck again. "Take out or do we actually make something?"

"You know what I really want? And I honestly can't tell you why," she begins rhetorically. "A grilled cheese sandwich."

An amused chuff escapes him. "First funfetti pancakes and now a grilled cheese. Sylvie Brett you are officially adorable. Grilled cheese sandwiches it is."

* * *

Grilled cheese sandwiches. She requested grilled cheese sandwiches.

It's almost unbearably cute.

So, now here they are in the kitchen, both barely dressed, standing in front of the stove melting butter in a skillet.

He makes a face as Brett spreads mayonnaise on her bread.

"What the hell is that?" He asks in outrage.

"Oh, no," she says with a sigh and an almost imperceptible grin. "Are you one of those no mayo people? Putting mayo on your grilled cheese makes it a superior grilled cheese!"

She reaches for two more slices of bread to make his but he wraps a hand around her wrist to stop her. "I'll make mine, thank you. I don't trust you now that I know you're a mayo grilled cheese person. I am shocked and appalled, Sylvie. Shocked and appalled."

"That's fine. I guess I'll just put my jeans on and go home if you're so shocked and appalled," she says with a playful smirk.

She sets the butter knife down and starts to step back from the counter, but he still has a hold on her wrist. His reflexes are also quicker than hers so she has no time to break away before he pulls her into him. He lets go of her wrist to wrap his arms around her waist, his hands settle on the top curve of her ass which is barely covered by his borrowed shirt.

He smiles triumphantly as they stand chest to chest in the kitchen. His thin t-shirt does nothing to prevent her body heat from seeping into his. He's ready to get lunch over with so they can get back to bed.

"You're not going anywhere," he tells her. "The day's still early and I have plans to take excellent advantage of all the daylight we have left."

"Fine," she says with a purposefully dramatic pout. "You can have yours without mayonnaise. I'll allow it."

He rolls his eyes and chuckles. "How gracious of you."

The sandwiches take longer to finish than they should - thanks to the way Sylvie keeps him permanently distracted. He can't help it if he stops every so often for a kiss or to tease her or hold her closer. He'd held back on his tactile instincts with her because he hadn't wanted to cross any lines, but now the floodgates are open and he's free to be as touchy feely as he wants. He can tell Sylvie is surprised by how truly tactile he is, and he gets it. He's been very intentionally controlled with her in the past.

But this is who he's been wanting to be with her for a few weeks now. Affectionate, open, and light. The relief he feels at finally being able to let down his guard is palpable. He knows Sylvie feels it too.

They sit down at the table to eat and Matt drags her chair closer to his. He drapes one arm across the back of her chair. She reciprocates by angling herself toward him and throwing one of her legs over his. They munch on their sandwiches in comfortable silence, sneaking giddy glances at each other as they do.

Sylvie breaks the silence by holding out the untouched half of her sandwich toward him. "Try it."

"Hell no. I don't want your mayo monstrosity," he replies with a scoff.

"When was the last time you tried it?" She asks, with a knowing glance.

"My mom made them that way one time when I was a kid," he replies. "I hated it."

"So did I when I was a kid," she tells him with a smirk. "You don't think your taste buds have matured since then? Try it."

He sighs and grimaces but takes it from her and begrudgingly takes a bite. Damn, okay. That's actually pretty good.

"Alright," he says after he swallows. "I don't hate it."

"That's a point for me," Sylvie quips as she takes her finger and tallies an invisible mark in the air. "And none for you."

"Hey," he protests. "No one said anything about keeping score."

"Oh, Matt," Sylvie says with a patronizing pat to his cheek. "I shouldn't have to."

He laughs loudly and drops the arm from the back of the chair to her shoulders, gently tugging her closer. "I see how it is."

She chuckles and then presses her lips to his cheek in a soft kiss. "I'm kidding," she tells him with her lips still against his cheek. She leans back to meet his eyes with an affectionate smile. "I may be competitive but I'm not _that_ competitive."

He didn't take her words seriously, but he loves that she's offering him comfort just in case he did. There are things that will haunt him about a certain previous relationship for a long time to come. One of the good things about moving on with someone who already knows you so well is that she knows better than most what those things might be. She knew Gabby Dawson as well as he did. So, while he knew she was kidding, it's reassuring to hear soothing words before he even has a moment to overthink it.

A faint ringing suddenly fills the air. They both turn their heads toward the sound.

"That's my phone," Sylvie says as she untangles herself from him and stands from the table. "It might be important."

She sprints toward his bedroom and emerges a minute or two later with the phone pressed to her ear.

"Spencer," she says with obvious relief as she sits back down at the table. "It's been a while since I had an update. I was getting nervous." She returns to her seat next to him as she listens. He tries to listen too but all he can make out is a few muffled words. "Tomorrow? Sure. I mean I'll have to clear it with Boden, but I should be able to meet you tomorrow." There's a pause where she gives him an affirmative hum and nods, even if he can't see it from the other end of the phone line. "Yes, I will meet you at the precinct tomorrow. Thanks for calling."

She ends the call and he can tell immediately that something's wrong. There's a tiny wrinkle in between her brows.

"What's up?" He asks as he laces his fingers through hers. "What did he say?"

"Not much," she replies, running a hand through her disheveled golden hair. "Just that he wants to meet with me to update me on the case tomorrow at five."

He narrows a concerned gaze on her. "So then what's with the face?" He sweeps a light touch over her furrowed brow to emphasize what he means. "You look worried."

"I am worried," she admits. "He sounded..._off_. You don't think there's something wrong, do you? I mean would he make me come all the way down to the precinct if it was bad news?"

He honestly has no idea, but he can't let her spend the next twenty four hours wallowing in uncertainty.

"I'm sure if it was anything urgent he wouldn't have held off until tomorrow," Matt assures her. He kisses her temple before continuing. "It's gonna be okay, Sylvie. There's no way anyone's going to let you spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder. One way or another, we'll work it out."

She nods and then wraps her arms around his midsection. Her head falls onto his shoulder with a tired sigh. "Thank you, Matt."

"Anytime," he responds.

He means it too. He's not going to let her spend her life living in fear of one of Hope's lowlife ex-boyfriends. If it turns out Spencer can't take care of it then he'll find another way. Sylvie deserves to get her life back. He'll help her anyway he can.


	21. I've Got Your Back

**A/N: **I finished another chapter so now I get to post one! We're getting back into the case and the angst with this chapter! Hope you're ready for it!

Happy reading!

angellwings

* * *

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE: I've Got Your Back

* * *

The truck parks along the sidewalk outside the firehouse no different than it does any other day, but today isn't just any other day. Today is different. Today he and Sylvie are different _together_.

"So," she says as he cuts the engine. "We agree that we're not going to make a big deal about it, right? I mean they all pretty much knew about us before the date and they're too smart and nosy for their own good."

He nods. "Yes, we're agreed. They'll put it all together without us telling them."

They both get out of the truck and meet up on the sidewalk, reaching for each other's hands as they walk. After almost 48 hours of nearly nonstop physical contact today is going to be difficult. They don't let go of each other until entering the Firehouse. Sylvie presses a quick kiss to his cheek and then splits off from him to head toward the bull pen.

He watches her go with a grin, distracted by the sway of her hips in her black dress pants. He could get used to the office professional version of Sylvie Brett. That's definitely a fantasy he'd be willing to indulge. When he turns to head toward the locker room, he nearly collides right into Severide.

"So, did you make good use of me not coming back to the loft the last two nights?" He asks with a sharp smirk. "Please say you did or else Stella will continue to hold me hostage in that cubby hole of an apartment she rents."

"I will not be answering that question," Casey replies with a grin and a scoff. "But what I will say is that from here on out no one will be sleeping on our couch."

"Stella will be very happy to hear it," Kelly says with a nod and a chuckle. He slaps Matt on the back and points a genuine smile in his direction. "Seriously, though, I'm happy for you, man. For _both _of you."

"Thanks. You know, I'm happy for me too," Matt tells him with a cocky smirk while he turns his back on Severide and continues to the locker room.

Shift goes on. It's a busy day with one call after the other, and every time Sylvie is waiting at Tower when they get back. They never exchange much more than relieved and reassuring glances but he likes the idea that she worries while he's gone. He feels like it's been a long time since he's had someone dedicated enough to worry about him like she does. When lunchtime rolls around, Sylvie joins them in the common area like she does everyday - only today she leads Foster and Kidd over to the long table and sits next to him.

They turn their chairs just slightly closer causing their arms and legs to brush up against each other. There's nothing overly demonstrative about it, but it thrills him nonetheless. Everything is different but only if you know what you're looking for. Their friends obviously do because the amount of secretive looks and meaningful smiles exchanged around them is a bit excessive.

After lunch, everything slows down a bit. He retreats to his quarters to finish up the paperwork he didn't really have time to do that morning. At around four o'clock, Sylvie knocks at his open doorway.

He glances up at her and feels an involuntary smile overtake his face. She reflects it right back at him.

"Hey," he greets as he stands and pulls her further into the room.

As she replies, he shuts the door and the blinds behind her.

"Hi."

Once that's out of the way, he wraps one arm around her waist and cups her face with his other hand and guides her lips to his. It doesn't take any coaxing for her to follow his lead. She wraps an arm around his neck and let's that hand slide into the hair on the back of his head. Her other hand lands on his stomach and slowly slides upward to stop on his shoulder. She took her sweet time getting it there though and everywhere her hand touched tingled with electric energy.

The kiss deepens as their lips part. The hand he has resting on her hip slides under the fabric of her loose flowing blouse. Allowing him access to her heated soft skin. The hand on his shoulder slides back down and untucks his white Captain's shirt from his trousers. He groans into her mouth when her hand slides up his chest yet again, this time with her skin against his. He starts to walk her back toward his cot when she lets out a soft squeak and then pushes gently against his chest.

"Wait," she mumbles against his lips.

"What?" He asks as he blinks at her through a fog of want and need. "You okay?"

"Yes," she replies, her kiss swollen lips forming a pout. "I just remembered why I came in here and it doesn't really give us a lot of time for what we're about to do."

Well, damn, that's disappointing. He reels her in for one more soft kiss before pulling her hand out from under his shirt and squeezing it. "We'll pick up where we left off later, then. Did you need something?"

"Just came in here to let you know Chief Boden is giving me a ride to the precinct to meet with Spencer. Trudy's going to get a couple of officers to take me back to your place after," she reminds him.

He nods and feels an inexplicable sinking sensation in his gut. He knows he told her things would likely be fine yesterday, but anytime he's thought about Hope's case since then he's felt nothing but dread.

"Right," he says. "Will you call me after and let me know what he says?"

"Of course," she agrees easily. She smiles warmly at him and then steals a quick chaste kiss. "I should go. Boden's waiting on me. Be careful out there. Copy?"

"Copy," he replies. "I'll see you in the morning."

"You'd better," she says with a warning glare. "No crazy cowboy moves while I'm gone."

He laughs and shrugs. "I don't make promises I can't keep."

She playfully rolls her eyes at him as she opens the door. "Fair enough, I guess. See you at home, Matt."

"See you at home," he repeats.

His wide smile stays in place until long after she's gone. He has just enough time to finish up his paperwork from that morning before things get crazy yet again. By the time it all dies down, shift is almost over and he's not had one moment to stop and worry about Sylvie's meeting with Spencer. He checks his phone as he gathers his things to leave the firehouse and doesn't see any missed calls or text messages. That sinking feeling in his gut is back. He wonders if maybe she forgot. Or if she got caught up in something else. But something tells him it's neither of those things.

He tries to call her while he's walking to his truck and gets no answer. He worries the entire drive home. He and Severide arrive at the same time. When the door opens, they find the loft eerily quiet and seemingly empty.

Matt's mind immediately pieces together Brett's radio silence with the empty loft and begins to fear the absolute worst case scenario. (The bastard that killed Hope is back and he has Sylvie.) It's unlikely. He knows that, but his imagination is unstoppable at this point. He drops his bag by the couch and practically sprints back to his room. He manages to not kick the door in and it's a good thing he didn't because laying curled up in his bed is Sylvie.

He breathes a deep sigh of relief and quietly shuts the door behind him. As he toes off his shoes, he realizes he's torn between relief and anger. Anger that she didn't answer his calls and texts or reach out to him after she got home like she initially promised. But then relief that all his worst fears were wrong. That she's safe and sound in his bed.

He doesn't realize until he crawls into bed next to her that she's still awake. She's curled into a fetal position with her back facing him. Her breathing appears to be even and relaxed.

But then she sniffles. And it's not a light sniffle or even a sniffle that might indicate a cold. It's a harsh messy sniffle and it sends a jolt of heartbreak down his spine. His anger is immediately forgotten. Something is seriously wrong. He reaches out and rubs a hand across her shoulder blades.

"Sylvie?" He asks softly.

She gasps through a sob and rolls to face him the minute her name leaves his lips. She tucks her face into the curve of his neck and wraps her arms around him, hugging him tightly. It only takes a moment for a wet spot to begin growing on his sweater. His arms go around her and rub up and down her arms and back in a consoling gesture. He still has no idea what's wrong, but he can guess Spencer didn't have anything encouraging to say.

"They're giving up on the case," she croaks through her tears.

"What?" He asks with a furrowed brow. "Why?"

She sniffles and stumbles through her answer. He wishes he could tell her not to worry about answering, but he can't help her till he knows what's going on. "Their leads have gone cold. Spencer says he's hit a dead end and he has other cases that need to take priority."

What. The. Fuck.

He knew that Detective Spencer was gonna be useless. He could tell from the very beginning. What the hell was he doing to solve the case anyway? How could all the leads have gone cold? It doesn't make any sense. The anger he'd almost directed at Sylvie is back and bigger than ever. He imagines having a rather strong word with Spencer. He gets a little lost in imagining that hypothetical conversation until Sylvie lets out a soggy chuckle and presses a kiss to his neck.

"Matt, you will not go talk to him."

"What?" He asks in surprise. How did she know what he was thinking?

"Your arms are stiff around me and your jaw is clenched. Call me crazy, but that seems like the body language of outraged Casey," Sylvie tells him with a sad grin.

"I told you, I'm not going to let you spend your life looking over your shoulder and I meant it," he reminds her before kissing the top of her head.

"I'm not sure what either of us can do about that," she says. Her voice sounds thick with tears again.

He tries his best to relax his arms and shoulders. Sylvie feeling his own tension isn't helping anything. Now is the time to focus on her. He'll worry about Spencer later.

"We'll figure it out," he assures her.

She sighs hopelessly and shakes her head against his neck. "Let's just face it. It's over. The guy got away with it. My life will never go back to normal. I'm never really going to feel safe ever again. I can buy a new car or get a new apartment but it won't matter. And all this time that I've-" she stops to inhale and exhale a shaky breath. He still feels a growing wet spot on his sweater so he knows the tears haven't stopped. "All this time that I've been staying here doesn't mean a thing. I've let myself become a pathetic, codependent burden for nothing. I can't even do my job, Matt. This is...God, this is like being in Fowlerton all over again. The only thing I'm good for is cooking and cleaning."

"That is _not_ true," he replies immediately.

"It _is_," she disagrees through a sob. "I never wanted to be that person again and I've done everything I can to avoid it and yet…"

Her sentence trails off as words become impossible through the heart wrenching sound of her tears. He hates this. She doesn't deserve any of this. He somehow manages to gather her closer. Their legs tangle together as he holds her to his chest. He doesn't really know how to make this any better or what to say to offer her comfort. A part of him can't believe she's telling him all of this. He's not used to being let this far in. Not that Sylvie has really ever shut him out but he's never had a relationship with someone who shared quite this much. He wishes she wasn't going through this, but he's grateful she's letting him be there for her.

"You're not a burden," he says against the top of her head. "You're sure as hell not pathetic. You've been handling this better than I ever would, Sylvie. You're strong and brilliant. Fiercely independent. Letting people help you every now and then does not make you codependent. If Severide and I weren't here to help, you'd make it work. I have no doubt about that." He rubs his hands up and down her back and breathes steadily for her, hoping she'll mimic him. She does. Her tears are still falling but her breathing evens out. "I don't care what Spencer told you, this isn't over. We're not letting it end like _this_."

He feels her nod, but she doesn't say anything else. Her arms tighten around him and she heaves a big tired huff.

"I've got your back, Sylvie. I promise."

He hears a soft whimper as she nods again but a moment later the tears are back. This time he doesn't say anything. He simply holds her through it. She cries for several minutes until the tears fade away. He cranes his neck back to look at her. She's blinking slowly with heavy eyelids.

She sighs in exhaustion and when she speaks her voice sounds hoarse and raw. "Thank you, Matt."

"Anytime," he replies, listening to her breathing as it deepens.

She relaxes against his side and the next time he looks down her eyes are closed and her expression is peaceful. She's asleep. He's grateful she was able to relax enough to sleep but his anger is still simmering under the surface. She cried herself to sleep and, goddammit, that never should have happened. She shouldn't be in this position in the first place.

He will not let it stand. Next opportunity he gets he's calling Boden. He'll know where to take this from here. Spencer doesn't get to give up and leave Sylvie vulnerable. Not on his watch.


	22. Take a Crack At It

**A/N: **IT'S CHICAGO FIRE NIGHT. YAY! Also I have been motivated like CRAZY LATELY. I'm currently writing chapter 28! Remember the days when I was struggling to be 2-3 chapters head?! Anyways, this chapter is a little short and I'm sorry about that, BUT next chapter is like a SUPER chapter. it's nearly three times as long as this fic's average chapter. So I will make it up to you next time ;)

HAPPY READING!

angellwings

PS - PRAY FOR BRETT AND CASEY INTERACTIONS TONIGHT GUYS. I NEED AS MUCH OF THEM AS I CAN GET OVER THE LAST THREE EPISODES. Also, STAY HOME AND STAY SAFE!

* * *

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO: Take a Crack At It

* * *

Sylvie's been peacefully sleeping for an hour when Matt slips out of bed. He grabs his phone and steps out into the living room. His first phone call is to Boden. He updates Boden on Sylvie and her case and Boden instructs him to call Voight.

_Voight_.

The last person on earth Matt wants to trust with Sylvie's safety. The last person on earth Matt wants to trust _in general_ really. But unfortunately, he's the Sergeant of PD's most successful unit and has more than enough authority to take over Hope's case. If anyone can find the guy who tried to kill Sylvie, it'll be Intelligence. That's a fact. It's a fact he _hates_, but it's still a fact.

He dials the number in his phone that he never uses. Voight owes Matt several hundred favors after that strip club case, but he's the nuclear option. The "In case of emergency break glass" option. Matt avoids calling him if at all possible.

He can't avoid it now.

This time he has to break the glass.

"Voight."

"It's Casey."

"What? You don't even bother with a hello anymore?"

"Don't make this any harder than it has to be. I need your help-No, I take that back. I don't need your help. If it was for me I wouldn't be calling," he replies with an irritated huff. "Sylvie Brett needs your help. I'm calling for her."

"The paramedic in the hit and run Spencer's investigating? The one who helped Antonio and I out on that bombing case a while back?" Voight asks with obvious interest.

"That's her, but _Spencer_ isn't investigating the hit and run anymore," Matt informs him. "Yesterday afternoon he told her he needed to move on to higher priority cases."

Voight scoffs. "Yeah, that sounds like Spencer. Let me guess, you want my guys to take a crack at it? Right?"

"This guy knows where Sylvie lives, Voight. I need-_she needs_ him found. We can't let her keep looking over her shoulder. She doesn't deserve that," he states firmly.

He hears a noise on the other end of the phone. A wary affirmative hum. "You mean _you_ can't. You sweet on this paramedic, Casey?"

God, someday he wants to punch this prick in the face. _Someday_. Not now. Because right now, Voight is actually useful.

"I don't see how that matters. Will you take the case or not?"

There's a beat of silence, and then…

"Yeah, I'll take it. If only to piss off Spencer. Tell your girlfriend I'll be in touch."

He hangs up before Casey can say anything else. It's a good thing too because he was a moment away from blessing out the leader of the Intelligence Unit. That would not have helped him or Sylvie. He's so angry at Voight that it takes a solid minute for him to register what just happened.

Intelligence is taking the case.

Hope's murder will continue to be investigated.

A weight is lifted from his shoulders and he can't wait to tell Sylvie. She'll be just as relieved as he is. As much as he enjoys having her in the loft, he knows it's important to her to stand on her own two feet. The case being active again is another step to getting her life back.

"Who was that?"

He spins at the sound of a soft groggy voice to find Sylvie standing at the hallway opening with his Chicago Fire hoodie around her shoulders. He didn't notice before but she's dressed almost entirely in his clothes. The only thing that belongs to her are the blue plaid sleep shorts that hug her waist, hips, and thighs. She's wearing one of his old Blackhawks shirts underneath the hoodie and on her feet are a pair of white socks that look a bit too big. His clothes look like they belong on her and that's potentially dangerous.

He blinks at her through a surprise rush of heat in his veins. The want he feels for this sleepy version of Sylvie Brett catches him entirely off guard.

"Uh, Voight. That was Voight," he says as his voice cracks over the words.

Her brow furrows in confusion. "Voight?"

He crosses the room to meet her as he nods. "Intelligence is taking Hope's case."

A smile blooms across her face and her eyes widen. "Really?"

"Yeah, apparently Voight doesn't like Spencer all that much," Casey tells her. "He wants to mess with him."

She takes a deep breath and then jumps into his arms with a squeal. "Thank you! Matt, just-thank you!"

The relief he felt a few minutes ago increases at the evidence of Sylvie's happiness. His arms go around her and he bends back slightly to steady them both. "I really didn't do that much-"

"Please, the whole Firehouse knows how you feel about Voight," Sylvie says with a chuckle. "The fact that you called him for me-Matt, it means so much. I really needed this. _Thank you._ God, and I am so sorry for being such a mess earlier. I sobbed all over you."

"Don't apologize for that," he insists as he tightens his hold on her. "Don't apologize for confiding in me. I want to be here for you, Sylvie. I want that more than anything. Please never stop letting me do that."

"I'll try my hardest - as long as I get to be there for you sometimes too," she promises. "This needs to be a two way street. Okay?"

He places a soft kiss on her temple before he answers her. "Okay. Yes, I'll try my hardest too."

"Good because you're wonderful, Matt Casey, and you deserve to have someone in your corner anytime you need it. I'd really like to be that person," she says nervously. "I mean, if that's okay with you?"

He laughs and then cranes his neck back to meet her eyes. "If that's okay with me? Sylvie Brett, I would be honored to have you in my corner anytime you want."

For as long as she wants, he thinks as he bites down that four letter word again. He gets closer and closer to letting it slip out each time he thinks of it.

He steps out her arms and tugs her toward the kitchen. "Come on, I'll make you breakfast. What are you in the mood for?"

"You don't have to—"

"I want to," he says as he stares at her thoughtfully. He's wondering if he can guess what she might want for breakfast after a night of crying. He thinks about the funfetti pancakes from their date and smirks at her. "I can make pancakes and I'm pretty sure we have whipped cream and sprinkles left over from Stella's 'everything out of a carton' dinner."

Her gaze lights up and she excitedly plants a firm kiss on his lips.

"I would _love_ that," she tells him as she pulls away. "Also, does anyone around here have a candy stash? I would like to stress eat my way through a package of Sour Patch Kids, please."

He laughs and shakes his head. "We don't have any of those and even if we did I wouldn't tell you. I know you have one hell of a sweet tooth but pancakes _and_ candy is way too much sugar. _Especially_ for you."

"Fine," she says with a pout. From her position beside him, she wraps her arms around his middle and rests her head on his shoulder. "I guess I'll stress eat a huge stack of pancakes instead." A second after her head lands on his shoulder it pops back up with an alarmed expression. "You're still in jeans and a sweater! You laid down with me for like an hour in jeans? That couldn't have been comfortable."

"I was a little more concerned with you than my comfort in that particular moment," he tells her.

"God, you're sweet," Sylvie says in amazement.

He blushes and ignores her compliment. Instead of replying he leads her over to the stool in front of the kitchen island. She sits down but before he can walk away from her to start breakfast, she loops her fingers through the belt loops on his jeans and pulls him back to her. Her legs part to allow him to stand between them. Once she has him where she wants him, she releases his belt loops and trails her hands up his chest, over his shoulders, and then into the hair at the nape of his neck. Her fingers tighten and pull his lips down to hers. They meet in an exploratory kiss, with open mouths and twining tongues.

His hands find her back to slip under her borrowed shirt. The kisses continue to deepen. Her legs tighten around him. His fingers are just grasping at the bottom of her shirt to pull it over her head when the sound of the loft door unlocking drowns out the sound of their kissing.

"Oh, come on, I know I pushed for this to happen but I didn't push for it to happen _in front_ of me."

Sylvie laughs into his mouth before leaning back and looking up at Stella. "That was the risk you took, Stella. You should have seen this coming."

"At least go to his room," Stella says with a good natured teasing grin.

"I can't cook breakfast from my room," Matt tells her.

"You can't cook breakfast while making out either," she fires back.

Matt scoffs and smirks at her. "You and Severide manage."

A short bark of a laugh escapes Sylvie which she quickly stifles with a hand over her mouth.

Stella quirks a brow at them both for a long moment and then chuckles, shrugging casually.

"Fair enough," she replies. "Speaking of Kelly. Is he here?"

"His room," Matt tells her as he nods toward Severide's closed bedroom door.

"If you're making breakfast," Stella says as she passes them on the way to Severide's room. "You should make enough for all of us." At Sylvie's near parental glare, Stella adds, "Please?"

"Are you guys sticking around long enough for it?" He asks with a curious grin.

"We thought we might stay home today, yeah," Stella answers. "You guys should stay too. We can hang out." She focuses a knowing grin on Sylvie. "Maybe watch some HGTV."

"There _is_ a House Hunters marathon on today," Sylvie says, giving Matt a pleading gaze.

He laughs and shakes his head. Though his next words contradict the head shake. "Fine, we can stay and...watch House Hunters."

Sylvie lets out a soft squeal and pops a quick kiss against his cheek. "What did I say? You're the _sweetest_."

That's how he ends up spending 24 hours of his 48 off watching back to back episodes of House Hunters from the comfort of his couch with Sylvie snuggled into his side. It's not the way he would have chosen to use a day off but he has to admit...he didn't hate it.

Though he imagines it's hard to hate anything while Sylvie's curled into him. With her arms wrapped around him and her legs thrown over his he could probably be convinced to enjoy a lot of things he wouldn't normally be interested in.

And if that makes him a sucker then so be it.

He'll happily be a sucker for Sylvie Brett any day of the week.


	23. Food For Thought

**A/N: **Welcome to the SUPER CHAPTER. This chapter is about the length of two chapters lol but I just couldn't find any where to split it. So, enjoy this EXTRA LONG chapter. ;)

Happy reading!

angellwings

* * *

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE: Food For Thought

* * *

She didn't think anything about it when she got dressed that morning. Sure, she thought it was weird that Casey kept getting distracted on the drive to the Firehouse. He almost missed a red light _and _a stop sign. Not at all normal for him. He's a very cautious driver. But she didn't for one second think his distracted driving was _her_ fault.

At least not until a couple of hours into their shift.

Boden had kept her busy in the bullpen that morning. She was helping him compile suggestions for new regulations and fax them to all the necessary departments. It was a lot of typing, printing, and copying. Finally, they reached a stopping place. They couldn't do anything else until feedback came from all the appropriate people. She decided to take advantage of the break and go check in on Casey and Foster and the rest of 51.

Only she didn't get that far.

She passed Matt on his way to see Boden. His stare followed her. It was focused on the lower half of her body. There was no denying the heat in it. She felt like he might burn a hole right through her pin striped pencil skirt.

He spins in an instant and rushes her.

"Come with me," he urgently whispered as he grabbed her hand and pulled her along behind him.

He didn't wait for her to answer. Not that she would have protested. His voice in her ear and his warm breath on her neck left her momentarily stunned. She only realized he'd led her to his quarters after he'd shut the door and closed the blinds.

"What's going on?" She asked as she watched him turn the lock on his door.

"This," he told her as his arms went around her and he gathered her flush against him. He kissed her firmly and passionately. While his mouth ravaged hers, his hands pulled her purple blouse from the waistband of her skirt.

She leaned back from the kiss and the pop of it was shockingly loud in the quiet space.

"What has gotten into you?" She asked with a flush and a bright smile.

"You in that skirt," he answered as he began to clumsily undo the buttons on her shirt.

"What? Seriously?" She asked in amused surprise.

He nodded as he reached the last button and pushed the sleeves down her shoulders. "You look like a _boss_," he said with a smirk. "Like a high powered executive."

Turned out Matt Casey has a thing for pencil skirts. She filed that information away for later and kicked off her shoes. Eager to let him indulge in whatever fantasy he wanted. She'd never seen him quite this wild and wanton. She wanted to enjoy it.

And enjoy it she did.

He could get a call any minute so there wasn't time to completely undress. And there was no power on heaven or earth that would have convinced him to peel that skirt off of her. So in the afterglow, they lay smushed together on his cot with her skirt unzipped and bunched at her waist and his trousers and boxers discarded next to her blouse.

"Holy shit, Matt," she says breathlessly. "If I'd known you had a thing for business women I would have worn that skirt so much sooner."

He chuckles against her throat as he continues to trail scorching kisses across her skin. "If I'd have known I'd have told you." He raises his head and meets her eyes with a wolfish grin. "I had no idea until you walked out of the bedroom this morning. The minute I saw you in that skirt I knew I was fucked."

She laughs. "Well, now you're fucked figuratively _and _literally."

"Thank God for that condom in my wallet," he says with a smirk.

"Typical Matt Casey," she tells him as she affectionately skims her hands through his hair. "Always prepared."

"Damn right," he agrees. "The prepared never lose."

"Never lose anything besides their pants anyway," she says with a teasing wiggle of her eyebrows.

His responding laugh is shocked and loud. _Too_ loud. She slaps her hands over his mouth to stifle the sound. She hates herself a little as she does it because a Matt Casey laugh is too beautiful to silence.

But they're at work. She doesn't have much of a choice. While she's on the subject…

"You need to get dressed," she tells him with a rueful grin. "You could get a call any time and you don't want to _actually_ be caught with your pants down."

He sighs into her hand and reluctantly rolls off of her to clean himself up and dress. He tosses her the blouse and her bra so she can do the same. He picks up the seamless silky briefs she'd been wearing and holds them out to her. She grabs them from his hand but doesn't put them on. He tore the fabric getting them off of her so they're basically useless now. Instead of putting them on, she opens a drawer in his desk and drops them inside.

He groans as if he's in pain and then watches her shimmy her skirt back down with a hungry gaze.

"So, now, not only do I have to look at you in that skirt for the rest of shift but I also have to live with the knowledge that you're going commando underneath it?" He asks with a deep swallow. "Are you _trying_ to kill me?"

"Kill you?" She asks with the pretense of innocence. "Never! Torture you?" She presses her lips together for a moment to suppress a giggle. "_Maybe_."

"Shameless," he mutters with a fond smile as he finishes putting on his pants. "You are _shameless_."

He waits until she's collected herself and then opens the door. It's a good thing they dressed when they did because a call comes in a few minutes later, while they're both doing a more thorough clean up in the bathroom.

He presses a quick kiss to the top of her head and then runs out the door with a quick, "See you when I get back!"

It's a call for Truck, Ambo, and Squad. Once he's gone she heads to her usual spot. Stationing herself at Tower during a call has become her routine. She won't hear everything over the radio at Tower but she'll most certainly hear if anything goes wrong. She sits down and waits while Engine still roams around the house. Ritter starts preparing lunch, Herrmann takes advantage of the empty common room to do some paperwork, and she listens at Tower with rapt attention.

Truck and Squad have just arrived at the scene when Herrmann approaches.

"Brett," he says as he leans against a nearby wall. "You have a guest. He says he's from Fowlerton FD?"

"Fowlerton FD? Did you get a name?" She asks with a furrowed brow.

"Jordan something—"

She brightens and stands from her chair. "He was Hope's boyfriend—" Herrmann tenses and Brett rushes to clarify. "Not the _ex_-boyfriend. The actual boyfriend. He's a firefighter in Fowlerton. Matt and I met him when I went home for the funeral. Where is he?"

"Apparatus floor," Herrmann tells her with a nod. "Wasn't sure if I should let him in or not."

Brett walks across the firehouse and to the mostly empty apparatus floor. She smiles sympathetically when she spots Jordan waiting patiently. He's not dressed in turnout gear this time. Instead he wears a faded Fowlerton FD shirt and jacket with black trousers and solid work boots.

"Jordan!" Brett greets him happily. "It's so good to see you again!"

She's not sure what to do. Shake his hand? Hug him? No, not hug. She's only met him once. Once she's close enough she reaches out a hand for a shake but he apparently doesn't think it's too soon for a hug. He grabs her and pulls into a brief friendly hug.

"It's good to see you too, Sylvie," he tells her as he releases her and steps away to give her back her space. "Sorry! That was probably too much. I'm just relieved to see a familiar face."

Sylvie forces a breezy chuckle and waves a dismissive hand at him. "Don't worry about it. It's fine. Are you here for work?"

He nods. "Yeah, Chief made arrangements for a few of us to observe Firehouse 20, a few blocks away. He wants us to see how the big city does things. Thought I'd stop by after my shift and see this Firehouse 51 Hope loved so much."

"Hope definitely loved this place," she agrees vaguely. Her 'maybe a little too much' goes unsaid. "I have some time. Would you like a tour?"

"Yeah! That would be great," he says with a warm smile. "If you really don't mind?"

"I don't mind at all. This is actually great timing," she says with a smile and a tired sigh. "I need a distraction while most of the house is out on a call."

"You got left behind, huh?" He asks.

"Broken rib from the accident," she tells him. "I'm out of commission for a couple more weeks. I'm on light duty till then."

He winces. "Ouch. That sucks. Been there. I punched a wall when I found out about Hope. Broke a finger, cut my hand to pieces. Chief made me sit out a few shifts when he found out. Hated every minute of it."

She immediately looks alarmed. "Oh god. That's awful! How's your hand now? Do you need someone to look at it?"

His glance turns fond as he chuckles at her concern. "No, I'm good." He holds up his bandaged hand as proof. "Got it checked out back home a while back."

"Sorry," she says sheepishly. "You can take the girl out of the Ambo but you can't take the paramedic out of the girl."

"I'm sure that's what makes you so good at your job," he states with a grin.

His gaze starts to make her feel uncomfortable. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other and clears her throat. "So, um, how about that tour?"

* * *

Matt's gotten so used to seeing Brett waiting on him at Tower when he gets back from a call that he almost doesn't know what to do with himself when she isn't there. Add to that the high he was on just before the call came in and he's completely thrown. His distress must have been palpable because, as he's standing there staring at Tower, Herrmann taps him on the shoulder.

"She's giving some guy a tour. Some Jordan guy? They're in the bullpen."

"Jordan?" Matt asks with a furrowed brow. "From Fowlerton?"

"That's the one," Herrmann answers. "Seems a little too friendly, if you ask me, but then again...what do I know?"

Anxiety and tension crawl up and down Matt's spine. "Thanks, Herrmann."

He turns on a dime and marches toward the bullpen. The urge to set eyes on Sylvie is too strong to deny. It's one thing to run into Jordan in Fowlerton, but it's a whole other thing to have him find her _here_. He crosses into the bullpen and immediately spots Sylvie sitting at her temporary desk. Jordan is leaned against it, next to her, while her head is thrown back in a laugh.

She sees him as he approaches and her beaming smile is almost enough to drown out the worry. _Almost_ but not quite.

"Jordan," Matt says, reaching out for a handshake as he stops in front of them.

Jordan holds up a bandaged hand with an apologetic wince. "Don't mean to be rude, but I probably shouldn't."

How convenient, Matt thinks as he bites back a scoff. That slight may not appear intentional, but it felt it.

Matt nods. "No worries, I get it."

"How'd the call go?" Sylvie asks, nervously biting her bottom lip.

He smiles softly at her and nods. "Fine. Fire in an abandoned building. No victims."

She nods and gives him a thoughtful glance. "Electrical or squatters?"

His eyebrows raise and his soft smile widens. She wasn't at the scene but she still wants to be involved. She still wants to figure it out. God, she's impressive. "Electrical seems likely."

"Good," she says with a relieved sigh. "I would hate to think there was an untreated burn victim running around out there somewhere."

Jordan chuckles and tugs playfully at Brett's ponytail. "You're exactly as good as Hope always said you were."

She smiles politely but twists out of his grasp. The anxious laugh she lets out tells Casey all he needs to know. Sylvie is not at all comfortable around Jordan. That's good because neither is Casey. Last time he worried it was jealousy, this time he knows it's not.

Casey leans against the desk on the other side of Brett and discreetly pulls her chair closer to him with an arm around her shoulders.

"So," Casey asks. "What brought you to Chicago, Jordan?"

"My chief sent me to observe at Firehouse 20. Shift ended and so I thought I'd come over and see the famous Firehouse 51. Once I got here, Sylvie offered to give me a tour," he explains with a casual shrug.

"Firehouse 20 is an interesting house," Matt replies with a smirk.

"Yeah, it's a house full of glory hogs," Jordan declares with an eye roll. "Not my style. But they're solid as far as the work goes. It was certainly educational." He huffs and glances down at his watch. "I should go. Gotta head back to Fowlerton tonight."

"Oh, okay," Sylvie says as she feigns disappointment. "Well, thanks for dropping by! It was good to see you again!"

"Yeah, you too," he says with a smile that's just a little too flirtatious for Matt's liking. "Give me a call if you're ever in Fowlerton."

"Yeah, um, sure," Sylvie agrees halfheartedly. She pastes on a smile as she nods.

"Let me walk you out," Matt says firmly as he stands and motions toward the bullpen doorway.

"Oh, no. I can find it—"

Matt doesn't bother to let him finish. "I insist."

The walk to the apparatus floor is full of nothing but stony silence. Everyone they pass in the hallways stares at them like an accident scene they have to slowly roll by for a good look. They all know Matt and Brett are seeing each other and by now Herrmann and Ritter have told the whole house about Jordan. Matt's also not delusional enough to think he's hiding his protective anger. This man came into his house and made Sylvie uncomfortable. There is no way in hell Matt is gonna stand by and let that happen.

He opens the main door to the firehouse and holds it open for Jordan. His hand waves him through the doorway expectantly.

"Send our best to Fowlerton FD, will you? We appreciate you all looking out for Brett during that _one week_ she worked with you," Matt says with an overly polite grin.

"I will. You know, it's funny," Jordan says as he stops in the doorway and turns to face Casey. "If she had stayed instead of coming back here, she probably wouldn't be in any danger. One decision really can change everything."

"If she'd stayed, she would have been miserable," Matt replies with a narrowed gaze. What is this asshole getting at?

"True, but — I don't know — don't you think that sometimes we don't know what's best for us? Just because it's what we want doesn't mean it'll be a good thing," Jordan says with a deceptively casual shrug. "Food for thought, I guess."

What thought? The thought that Brett should leave everyone she knows and loves for the hometown she's already left _twice_? That's ridiculous. Besides, Brett is the best judge of what she can handle. She's an adult with an extremely intelligent head on her shoulders. It's up to her, not some guy who used to date her high school best friend.

"Listen," Matt says through a clenched jaw. "I don't know what kind of game you're playing here, but Sylvie's been through enough. If you plan to pile on then you and I are going to have some serious issues because I'm _not_ going to let that happen. Is that clear?"

Jordan smirks and snorts derisively as he _finally_ steps outside. "As crystal. Look, I get it. You want me to stay away from your girl. Fine. Not a problem. I will _for now_. Eventually, a time will come when she's not your girl and when that time comes I'll be around."

Matt's eyebrows raise and a sardonic grin forms on his face. This cocky asshole. He disliked him before but now — _holy shit _— the hatred is _strong_.

"No," Matt tells him. His tone leaves a dangerous veiled threat hanging between them. "_You_ won't be. Even if she decides she wants nothing to do with me, I'll still be watching her back. And I'll make sure _you_ don't get anywhere near her. Have a good day, Jordan. Don't come back."

Matt pulls the door shut with excessive force. He turns to make his way back to Brett but stops short when he finds Herrmann and Severide standing behind him with their arms crossed over their chests. They both look as foreboding as possible. They backed him up even though he didn't stop to ask.

"That asshole never steps foot in 51 again," Matt tells them with a seething exhale.

"Roger that," Severide agrees. He looks as pissed as Matt feels. "I'll make sure Boden knows."

"I got bad mojo off of that little prick the minute he showed up," Herrmann states as he continues to glare at the closed door. "I'm with you."

He's not surprised but he is grateful. This Firehouse has always shown up for him. It's a constant he hopes never changes.

* * *

Sylvie isn't sure what just happened. Things started out innocent enough, but over the course of the half hour or so Jordan was here he grew increasingly more forward. She asked him more than once to give her space and he would — for a few minutes. She sped through the tour and tried to usher him out the door but instead of leaving when she told him she needed to get back to work he followed her to the bullpen.

She politely played along for as long as she could stand it. He did tell a few genuinely funny stories about life in the Fowlerton FD and the excessively silly calls from small town characters she knew well. But otherwise being near him felt uncomfortable at best. He asked a few intrusive questions that she skillfully avoided. All in all, she did not enjoy his visit.

She was a moment away from asking him to leave when Casey showed up. Her relief at seeing him was only rivaled by her anxiety about Casey handling yet _another_ thing she should have taken care of herself.

Why is she so damn helpless lately? She never wanted to be the damsel in distress and yet over the last few weeks that's all she's been.

It's really beginning to piss her off.

By the time Casey makes it back to her she's had several minutes to stew in her self-loathing. She knows herself and she's quickly approaching her boiling point. Her anger that, until now, has been hidden by her anxiety and fear is surfacing. She's a volcano about to blow. Unfortunately, Matt happens to be too close when the explosion goes off.

"I could have handled that, you know," she snaps as she turns away from him to unnecessarily shuffle the paperwork on her desk.

He blinks at her in surprise before nodding his agreement. "Of course you could have."

"I mean you don't have to swoop in and save the day every damn time. I have taken care of myself for thirty years, Casey. I am more than capable and fending off unwelcome advances," she grumbles as she slams the stapler down onto a packet of new regulation information for the Chief.

She's made copies for Casey, Severide, and Herrmann too. Which means she has an excuse to continue to take her frustration out on the stapler.

"I didn't say you weren't," he replies slowly. His gaze is both concerned and confused. "And it wasn't my intention to _swoop in_. You just looked like you needed back up. That's all."

He flinches each time she hits the stapler. The sound of her hand hitting it with excessive force echoes through the bullpen.

"Look," Casey says as he steps closer and slides the stapler out of her reach. "I'm sorry if I overstepped, but he was clearly making you uncomfortable and I didn't think you should be alone with him. I wasn't thinking about _saving_ you, Sylvie. I've seen you look after yourself in far more stressful situations than that. I know you can handle it." He hesitates for a moment but continues on with a nervous gulp. "But just because you _can_ doesn't mean you _have to_. All I was doing was trying to _help_. I swear."

His eyes are earnest and clear of any sort of deception. She knows he's not Harrison. Casey's not playing any mind games with her. In fact, he pulled the exact opposite move of what Harrison used to do. Harrison used to tell her she _couldn't_ do things but Matt—Matt just reassured her he knew she _could_. She breathes deeply and reminds herself her life is different now. She may feel as helpless as that girl she left behind in Fowlerton, but she _isn't_. She never will be again.

She slumps in her chair and puts her head in her hands. She's still frustrated but it's no longer directed at Matt. Guilt joins her frustration as she gives Casey an apologetic glance.

"I'm sorry," she says with a sigh. "I know you were only trying to help. And you're right, I wanted the help. I'm grateful for it."

He gives her a skeptical glance. "Are you sure? Cause the stapler begs to differ. You seem pissed off."

She chuckles dryly when she realizes he's still keeping the stapler from her and then lifts one shoulder with feigned carelessness. "I am pissed off."

"At me?" He asks worriedly.

"No, not _at you_ just…_around you_," she answers as she waves a hand at the small space in between them. "I'm _angry_, Matt. My life is out of control. I'm crashing with you, you're driving me to work, I've got a psycho out there who probably wants to kill me and some guy showing up at work to throw unwanted come ons at me...and because of my damn rib I can't even go to the gym and blow off steam." She fists her hands and holds them in her lap, channeling all her pent up tension into them. "I've got all this _anger_ and nowhere to vent it! And when you walked in here I just...I lost it. You didn't deserve that. I'm sorry."

He takes in a contemplative breath and then pulls up a chair next to her. He nods slowly as he speaks. "I get that. And I can't say I blame you. You've been through a hell of a lot lately."

"Great!" She says as she gives him a sugary smile. "So can I have my stapler back?"

He laughs and shakes his head. "No, I'm worried I'll end up hearing stories about how you stapled someone's hand or head or something equally horrific."

His understanding is working wonders for her mood.

She huffs with a playful glare. "Jerk. Now what am I supposed to do? Spin classes and kickboxing are out. All I have is my stapler."

"I tell you what," he says with a teasing grin. "I have a two-hole punch and a stack of reports that need to be punched and put in folders. That's probably just as satisfying as a stapler. And less dangerous."

"Is this you trying to help me or finding someone to pass off your work to?" She asks with a quirked brow and a mirthful glance.

"I can't do both?" He asks, laughing lightly through the question.

She manages to hold back her own laugh while flicking a paperclip at him. "Like I said, _jerk_!"

He dodges it and grabs her hand to keep her from flicking another one at him. "It was worth a shot! You really can't blame me for trying!"

He's right. She can't. Especially not when he made her feel so much better just by teasing her.

Boden suddenly comes out of his office and approaches her desk.

"Brett, Casey," he greets with a nod. "I just got a call from Voight. Atwater's on his way over with an update on Hope's case. I thought we'd talk to him in my office."

"An update?" Brett asks hopefully. "They just took over the case a couple of days ago. How can they have an update already?"

"Voight works in mysterious and questionable ways," Casey says with a scoff as he stands from his chair. "You probably don't want to know."

She nods and follows Boden and Casey into the office. An update doesn't necessarily mean good news. She tries not to get her hopes up too high. The disappointment of her meeting with Spencer is still lingering. She never wants to go through that ever again.

She wants this time to be different, but she's not counting on it. Historically, she's not that lucky. Her gaze falls on Casey and a small warm smile spreads across her face.

But, then again, maybe her luck is changing.


	24. You've Got Something There

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR: You've Got Something There

* * *

Matt gives Sylvie's shoulder a supportive squeeze while they wait for Atwater. They've just come from a scene that, with anyone else, may have turned into an argument, but not with Sylvie. Is this how functional adults actually operate in relationships? Do they talk to each other the way she's talked to him? Kelly and Stella seem too. He always thought they were an exception, but the more time he spends with Sylvie the more he starts to think that they're less an exception and more a good example. He's gotten used to some bad habits in his previous relationships and tried to pick up his partner's slack. He's beginning to realize that he shouldn't have to do that.

Sylvie willingly opens up to him and if she ever doesn't all he has to do is ask. She hasn't once run from him when confronted. He feels like that fact shouldn't amaze him, and yet it does. _Constantly_.

He's let himself settle for dysfunctional his entire life. He almost doesn't know what to do with himself and a relationship that seems to happen _naturally_. What is a relationship like when you're not constantly repeating the same arguments over and over again? Or when getting someone to talk to you isn't like pulling teeth? At nearly 40, he's still learning. Luckily, Sylvie's a good teacher.

The door opens and Atwater walks in with a nod and a wave. He closes the door behind him and then moves to stand between Boden's desk and their chairs.

"Thanks for taking the time," he says as he shakes everyone's hands one by one. "We had a break in the case and we wanted you all to be informed as soon as possible."

"Already?" Sylvie asks in surprise. "You've only had the case a couple of days!"

"What can I say?" Kevin says with a grin. "We do good work."

Boden smirks at him and shakes his head in amusement. "What's the latest?"

"We tracked down the ex. He used a credit card at a roadside motel. We went and checked it out today and...well, it wasn't pretty. It looks like a suicide. He even left a note expressing remorse for Hope's death. He said he didn't mean to kill anyone. He just wanted to scare her. Seems like the guilt got to him," Atwater says with a sympathetic glance aimed at Sylvie.

Matt's brow furrows and then he blinks at first Sylvie then Atwater. Is he saying what he thinks he's saying? "Are you...are you telling us this is over? Case closed?"

"Well, we still gotta dot the 'i's and cross the 't's but we think so. We have to do our due diligence and make damn sure it was a suicide before we'll call the case officially 'closed' but it looks likely," Atwater answers. He looks from Casey to Sylvie. "I wouldn't move back to your place till we give you the official all clear but you shouldn't have to stay away too much longer."

"That's better news than I ever got from Spencer, at least," Sylvie says as she releases a relieved breath.

"Keep your ringer on. We'll make sure you stay looped in," Kevin promises. "I gotta get back but I'll see you guys around."

"Absolutely," Matt agrees.

"Tell Voight we say thank you," Boden tells Atwater with a sideways glance at Casey.

Casey fights the urge to scoff and roll his eyes. Instead he nods and gives Kevin a halfhearted smile. "Yeah, we're all grateful that he let you guys take the case."

"Anytime," Atwater says with a nod. "Happy to help 51 whenever we can. You guys have done plenty of favors for us over the years too. Big ones."

Once Kevin leaves, Boden dismisses them but not before warning Brett to keep him informed. She assures him she will. Once they leave Boden's office, Matt takes her hand and leads her into the Blue Room. He shuts and locks the door behind him. He wants to gauge her reaction to Atwater's news.

"How are you feeling about this?" He asks in concern.

Her brow furrows. "I'm...not sure. I don't want to get my hopes up but I'd hate to think there's more to this than a guilty suicide - as terrible as that is."

He's not sure either. He knows she wants her life back and he wants that _for her_. Her independence is important to her. He's always admired that about her. There's no way he's ever denying her that.

But...he's also enjoyed having her close these last few weeks. This relationship they have now, started during all of this. What are they after it's resolved? How does this work when they don't share space? _Will _it work when they don't share space? His chances of screwing it up will surely increase once they're no longer forced into closeness, right? When he's no longer on her hip will what they have be the same?

He also hates himself for worrying about that at a time like this. He wants this case resolved. He needs Brett safe. She _does not _need to keep being dependent on all of them. It upsets her and adds stress she doesn't deserve. She'll be happier when she's given back her agency and her space. Above all else, he wants her to be happy.

"I know all I've been talking about since this started is getting my life back," Sylvie says with a nervous gulp. "But now that it's almost here I'm-I don't know-nervous? That's stupid, isn't it?"

A soft scoff escapes him as her words strike a chord. He shakes his head and pulls her to him. "No. I was actually just thinking...I'm nervous too. Probably for different reasons, but I'm definitely nervous."

"What are you nervous about?" Sylvie asks with a small curious smile.

"Don't-Don't take this the wrong way, okay?" He asks anxiously.

"Okay? Now, I'm worried."

"No," he says as he rubs his hands up and down her arms. "It's nothing bad, I'm just afraid you'll misunderstand."

Her eyes narrow perceptively. "Are you nervous about _us_?"

He rubs the back of his neck and looks away from her as he answers. "Well..._yeah_. We haven't done this yet without literally being in the same place at the same time, all the time. How do we scale that back? _Can we_ scale that back? And then I feel ridiculous for worrying about that because obviously I'd rather have this case resolved and see things go back to normal for you. But...your _normal_ didn't include me. I don't want you to think that I don't _want_ you to be independent or support you in whatever you decide to do but I-"

A hand covers his lips, cutting him off. He finally glances back up at Sylvie to find her smiling affectionately at him.

"I would _never_ think that, Matt. You've been nothing but supportive this whole time. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you have my back. You've told me enough times. Honestly, do you think I'd forget so easily?" She asks him as she pulls her hand away.

He knows his face looks stupidly stunned. He feels stupidly stunned. He really thought she'd take offense. His knee jerk reaction was to proactively apologize for a fight that hadn't happened yet. He never once considered that she might actually..._understand._

She frames his face with her hands. Her gaze looks patient and warm. God, every day he gets closer to saying those three little words out loud. In fact, they're this close to falling off his lips _right now_.

"I'm nervous about that too," she confesses.

"You are?" He asks in surprise.

She nods. "I'm insecure as hell about this whole thing. What if you don't want me when I'm back to living independently? What if what we have is because of some hero complex? How is this gonna work once I move back in with Cruz? When we have to split our off duty time between our individual obligations and responsibilities? I mean, you've put off your construction jobs more often than not since I moved in. You can't do that forever. Do we have time for each other off shift or even _on shift_? I have questions too. You're for sure not alone."

"I can assure you of two things with absolute certainty," Matt says as he bands his arms around her waist. "What we have has nothing to do with any sort of hero complex and your independence is one of the most attractive things about you. That will _never_ keep me from wanting you."

She blushes and bites back a beaming smile. "Well, I'm glad we cleared that up." One of her hands drops to his neck and the other slides back into his hair. "And in the spirit of clearing things up, my _normal_ may not have included you before but it most _definitely_ does now. You got that, Captain Casey?"

A smile easily overtakes his face as his eyes search hers for any signs of insincerity. He doesn't find any - not that he expected to. "Got it, PIC Brett."

"Oh!" She says as a sudden memory lights up her face. "Before you dragged me into your quarters this morning-"

"Which I plan to do again later-"

She laughs and rolls her eyes. "Insatiable. That's what you are. Well, before you do that and I forget _again_, I made my last doctor's appointment this morning. I'll need to leave early from the shift after next for my final follow up. Boden already cleared it. So, that combined with the news about the case today…"

"Your life is that much closer to being back on track?" He asks with a knowing smile.

She nods and beams at him. "The case will be wrapped up soon and in a couple more shifts I'll be back on Ambo. All I need is a car and I'll start to feel like myself again. Once that happens, you and I can start to figure out how this will work in real life."

"This isn't real life?" He asks in amusement.

"No, this is prime time network crime procedural life."

He laughs and hugs her tighter to him. "Makes sense."

"It doesn't but I appreciate your support," she says a moment before she filches a quick kiss. "We should get back before anyone realizes we're gone. By the way, what did you do to Jordan?"

"I didn't _do_ anything to him," Casey answers truthfully. "I walked him out, like I said I would."

She lifts a disbelieving brow at him. "Matt Casey."

He sighs in resignation and shrugs. "I may have told him to get out and stay out or else he and I would have problems."

"Is that all?" She asks warily.

"I also made sure that Severide and Herrmann know he's persona non grata," he said, clearing his throat bashfully. "Just in case."

Her skeptical expression melts into something mirthful and appreciative. "I know I snapped at you earlier, but...thank you for taking care of that for me. As much as I hate to admit it, sometimes a little help is necessary. You're very good at picking up on when it truly is _necessary_."

"Thank _you_ for actually talking about what was bothering you and not shutting me out," he replies. "I can't tell you how much it means to me that you let me inside your head. I'm not used to that."

They both know why he's not used to that and who he's accustomed to facing conflicts with, but neither of them feel it's necessary to say it.

She nods slowly and cards her hands through his hair. "Then I guess we'll have to work on that. _Together_. Eventually, you'll stop expecting the worst and I'll realize accepting your help doesn't make me weak. It might, in fact, make me stronger."

"You've got something there," he tells her as he presses his forehead to hers. "I think maybe the secret to all of this is that we might be stronger as a team, you and me."

"I like that," Brett agrees as she continues to run her fingers through his hair. "Thinking of us as a team - or just thinking of us as an _us _at all."

"Me too," he says with a deep contented breath.

He'd like to keep thinking of them as a team or an 'us' or a 'we' for the foreseeable future. Hopefully, he won't screw this up. Not with _her_. He'd like to keep her for as long as possible.


	25. One Day At a Time

**A/N: **I just finished writing chapter 29 so now you guys get to read chapter 25! Yay! I'm getting closer to the end! I hope you guys like what I have in mind for it! Also, NEW CF THIS WEEK. YAY!

Happy reading!

angellwings

* * *

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE: One Day At a Time

* * *

Sylvie finally has a car.

She decided it was time that morning when they woke up. The case was almost wrapped up and soon she'd be back in her own place so first priority, in her opinion, should be to be able to get herself where she needed to go. She dragged him down to another dealership and a decision was made before lunch.

Matt laughs softly as Sylvie stands proudly next to her new car.

"I can't believe that after all that test driving we did, you chose yet another silver sedan," he says as he watches her twirl the keys around one of her fingers.

She shrugs and smiles sheepishly. "If it's not broke, don't fix it."

He steps into her space and places his hands on her hips, drawing her closer. "How about we go back to the loft, drop off my truck, and then you drive us to lunch to celebrate. I'll treat."

"Really? You want me to drive?" She asks in disbelief.

He nods and gives her hips a playful squeeze. "You're the one with the new shiny car. I assume you want to show it off."

She beams at him and gives him a quick pecking kiss. "You assume correctly. I _love_ this plan."

Nearly an hour later, they're sitting down at a table and ordering drinks. Sylvie glances down at the menu and immediately decides on a mixed berry salad. Not surprising at all considering her well known sweet tooth. He orders a club sandwich. The booth is tight enough that their knees bump under the table. She throws her new fob for her car - it's one of those fancy press to start cars so there's no key - into her purse and then rests her chin in her hand with a soft contented smile.

"Thank you for coming with me today, Matt," she tells him.

"Wouldn't have missed it," he replies, reaching across the table to take her hand.

"You're the sweetest," Sylvie tells him with a grateful look. "You've been so great through all of this. I don't know how I could ever repay you and Severide."

He shakes his head and narrows his eyes at her. "Stop. There's nothing to repay, Sylvie. You'd do the same for either one of us."

"I'm glad you know that," she says as she squeezes his hand. "Because it's true, I would."

He lifts her hand from the table and kisses her knuckles. "As much as I've loved having you around, I'm relieved that guy's not still out there looking for you. Having you at the loft with us has been great but I'd rather have you safe."

"I know Atwater said it's basically a done deal, but I'm holding my breath until someone calls with the official word," Sylvie admits as she nervously bites her bottom lip. "I don't want to get my hopes up and then be severely disappointed."

"Hey, come on," he says with an encouraging glance. "It's okay to let yourself believe it. Think about this, if they called right now, what would you do?"

She sinks her teeth into her bottom lip, thoughtfully, and after a moment answers him. "Deep clean my poor abandoned apartment. It's been sitting vacant for so long, I can't imagine how much dust is covering that place right now. Oh god, maybe even a few cobwebs-" she cuts herself off and shudders. "Yeah, I'm gonna have to take care of that before Cruz or I even _start_ to move back in."

The conversation is halted by the arrival of their food. He's glad for it because he hates to admit it, but the idea of her leaving the loft has been bumming him out more and more. It's less about the two of them living together and more about scaling back his access to her. It's been all day every day lately and he's enjoyed the hell out of it. He's gotten a little spoiled.

After lunch they head home, but before he can even manage to reach for the car door Sylvie pulls him in for an intrusive series of heated kisses. They're a moment away from taking it too far in a public parking lot when she releases him and then nods toward the door to the building.

"We should take this inside."

Okay, _a lot _spoiled.

"Hell yes, we should," he agrees.

They shut themselves up in his bedroom and stay there until Severide and Stella get home. He'd have been happy to stay there a lot longer, but Stella comes knocking on his door — yelling for Sylvie.

"One—one second!" Sylvie calls back as she practically breaks her neck trying to scramble out of bed. She blindly grabs the first clothing items she can find and ends up in his boxers and her oversized cardigan and little else.

He sits back in bed and watches the show. There's not a thing wrong with appreciating the view of a naked Sylvie shimmying into his underwear. No matter how exasperated of a glare she gives him. He, personally, has no problem with Stella seeing him in bed in _his_ bedroom. The sheet covers him. It's not a big deal.

Sylvie pulls her cardigan around her tightly and folds her arms across her chest in a flurry of panicked movements. She opens the door ever so slightly, leaving just enough room for her to poke her head out.

"Hi! Hey! What's up?" She asks, her voice pitched up several octaves.

He bites back a laugh and shakes his head at her. She's acting like a teacher caught them behind the bleachers. He honestly doubts Stella would give a shit. Especially considering the way she and Severide persist in having their hands all over each other almost every moment they're off shift.

"Foster texted. She wants to get drinks tonight. Just the girls. You free?" Stella asks. "Or are you..._otherwise occupied_?"

"Tonight?" She asks. "No, no plans. What time?"

"Leave here around seven?" Stella suggests.

"Sure, I'm in!" Sylvie agrees brightly.

"Great! And I'll let you two get back to it," Stella replies with audible amusement in her tone.

Sylvie closes the door, turns, and immediately checks the time on his alarm clock. "Oh god! It's later than I thought! It's 5:30! I have ninety minutes to get ready and I reek of sex."

"Not the worst odor, all things considered," he quips with a smirk and a snicker.

She playfully rolls her eyes at him, crosses the room to kiss him, and then grabs her shower kit. "I need to shower, do something with my hair, and pick out an outfit. Gotta cut this short for now."

"I'll shower with you," he offers as he wags his brows at her suggestively.

"Uh, no," she laughingly disagrees. "I need to take a quick shower and if you come with me it will _not_ be _quick_. You stay here. That's an order."

"You're giving _me_ an order?" He asks, grinning broadly.

"What? Like it's the first time I've ever done that?" She asks with a cheeky smile. She tosses a wink over her shoulder as she leaves his room and heads for the hall bathroom. He laughs lightly as he watches her go.

God, he loves her.

He freezes. That's the first time he's ever let himself think that. He's kept himself from using that four letter word, even in his head. But there's no use holding back now. _He loves her._

He loves her like he's never loved anyone before.

And he's not scared. Or even shocked, really. Because it's _Sylvie_. Of course he loves Sylvie. He's thought it before and he'll keep thinking it. Everything that's happening with Sylvie just makes good goddamn sense. They fit. She's easy to talk to. He wants to see her happy more than he wants anything else in the world. Having her on his side makes him feel like he can overcome any odds, weather any storm. He wants her in his life on a permanent basis. He loves her. That's all there is to it. It's an irrefutable law of the universe now. As basic as gravity.

Sylvie comes back smelling like a tropical paradise with her hair blow dried and straightened but still only wearing a towel. They switch places. He showers while she changes clothes. As he's stepping out, he spots Stella standing in his bedroom doorway — looking into the room.

"I'm telling you," Stella says with a quirked brow. "Go with the wedges. I do not want to end up carrying your drunk ass which is what will happen if you choose the strappy stilettos."

"But the strappy ones make my legs look longer," Brett pouts.

"Girl, have you seen your legs? They're plenty long enough as it is," Stella tells her with a teasing eye roll.

"I second that," he adds, walking passed Stella into his room. "You don't need anything to make them look longer. They're pretty damn perfect."

Stella nods and smirks at him. "It's the spin classes."

"Never gonna try them myself but I gotta admit I have a brand new appreciation for them," he declares, winking at Brett as she looks up from her feet with a light blush on her cheeks.

"Alright, I'll go with the wedges," she agrees with a chuckle.

She glances down at her watch and frowns. "I still have to work on my face." She glares at Stella with feigned jealousy. "How are you already done and ready to go?"

Stella points to her hair pulled up and out of her face. "I didn't bother trying to straighten this nest. Cuts down on my prep time considerably."

"Okay, give me twenty minutes," Sylvie says as she shoos Stella from the room and shuts the door behind her. Once the door is closed, she spins on her one shoed foot and wraps both arms around him. "Well, hello, Freshly Showered Matt."

He laughs and presses her further against his bare chest by folding his arms around her waist. "Hello," he repeats with a broad smile.

"You smell really good right now. Like...I don't know-like the woods after a heavy rain or something. Ugh, I love it," she confesses as her fingers slip into his damp hair.

Christ, she's adorable. "The woods after a heavy rain, huh?"

"Mhmm," she says as her eyes roam hungrily over his face and his shoulders. "You should kiss me before I put on my lipstick."

"Aren't you in a hurry?" He asks with a smug grin.

"Please, it's Foster, she'll be at least twenty minutes late. We have time."

Well, she knows Foster better than he does. Who is he to argue with that?

It's nearly forty minutes later, twice what she promised Stella, when Brett emerges from his bedroom in a little black dress and matching black wedge heels. He understands she likes the stilettos better, but he prefers the wedges with the delicate strap around her ankle. It draws his attention to her well toned calf muscles - the ones she earned in those spin classes they talked about. She looks good - _gorgeous, in fact _\- and he's almost tempted to invite himself along. Girls night or not.

She kisses his cheek and then rubs the lipstick smudge off with her thumb. "I'll be back later."

He nods. "Call me if you need me. I'll be here."

When the door shuts behind Stella and Sylvie, Severide steps up beside him and holds out two cigars. "Looks like it's just us."

Matt smirks and takes one of the cigars from him. "Looks like it."

They head to the roof and sit in a couple of rickety old lawn chairs, bundled up in coats and hats. It's been a while since they'd had time to sit and smoke and talk. He's missed it, even if he'll never admit it outloud.

"So," Severide says with a grin. "Things with Brett seem to be going well."

"Yeah, they are," he says with a soft smile. "The case is almost wrapped up, she's a couple of shifts from being back on full duty - pretty soon she'll be back in her place with Cruz. Everything's getting back to normal."

His tone changed on the second half of that answer. He heard it but he couldn't prevent it. The more he thinks about Sylvie leaving the more he worries. He's gotten too attached too quickly. If this had happened without her living with them he doubts her going out for a night with Foster and Kidd would cause him to feel this out of sorts. Even now, he's tempted to text her and ask how it's going. They've barely been gone half an hour. He knows he'll be waiting eagerly for her to get home for the rest of the night - always half distracted from spending time with his _own_ friend. That's not fair to anyone. Not himself, Brett, or even Severide.

"You don't sound like you're looking forward to 'normal'," Severide observes.

"I'm not. Which isn't fair to Sylvie," he admits. "I don't begrudge her getting her life or her independence back, but I just…"

"You want her around all the time?" Kelly asks with a knowing smirk. "So you can watch her back. If she goes out, you wanna go out - to keep an eye on her. To look out for her. Not to mention, you like yourself better when you're around her and you want to hold on to that. Am I right?"

Casey blinks at him in shock. "Yeah, that's exactly-" He shakes his head and then aims a furrowed brow at him. "How did you know that?"

He shrugs and leans back further in his chair. "Been there. Stella lived here before you did, remember?"

"I totally forgot about that," he says. "She moved out when you started dating, didn't she?" Severide nods, but doesn't offer any more information so Casey asks. "How did you deal with that?"

"One day at time," he answers. "I tried to find things to distract me. I kept myself busy so I didn't spend all my time crowding her space. First time in my life, I was ready for more before my partner." Kelly laughs at himself. "It figures that would happen with Stella, who's not in any particular rush. I had to choose to take a conscious step back to give her what she needed. It was hard as fuck. I hated it."

"But you did it," Casey says with a small grin.

He's always respected Kelly, but if possible he respects him even more now. He's put hard work into his relationship with Stella and it's paid off. He also realizes, like he hasn't before, that Severide has staked his entire future in Stella Kidd. He's glad for it. She's been good for him. She makes him happier than he's seen him with anyone else, and Severide deserves that.

"I did it," he says. "For Stella. Because there's no way in hell I'm ever letting her go. Whatever I need to do to keep her, I'll do it. No question about it."

"So, then your advice would be...what? Take it one day at a time?"

He nods. "Yeah, that and get back to work. I'm sure you have construction jobs you've been slacking on for her, right?" Matt doesn't speak or nod or move. He doesn't really want to admit to it. He's normally very responsible but Kelly's right. He's been slacking lately. Severide takes his nonresponse as a confirmation and scoffs through a dry chuckle. "I knew it. Stop slacking and start working. That oughta do the trick. Or I don't know - how long has it been since you saw Christie and Violet? Been to the gym? You know, the things you used to do all the time before the wreck. Do those things, get back to your old routine. If you do that then I'm pretty certain that'll give Brett time to get her normal routine back too. And, take it from me, don't wait till she's moved back to her place to start. It makes it worse."

Casey takes in a deep breath and nods slowly. "Thanks."

"Anytime," Kelly promises. "Besides, I like the two of you together. She gives just as much as you do. You need that. You need someone who invests in you the way you invest in them. And...you've been a totally different guy these last few weeks. Lighter, less brooding. It's been nice." Severide laughs when Matt tosses him a withering glare. "Yeah, man, face it. You brood."

"Maybe, I brood," Matt admits. "But you do too."

"That's fair," he replies with a snort.

Severide is absolutely right. Sylvie wants her life to get back to normal. She's made that clear. For her life to get back to normal then his does too. But he doesn't want to start weaning himself off of her out the blue. There's no telling how Sylvie would interpret that if he didn't talk to her about it first. He'll have to let her know what's going on in his head. His knee jerk reaction to that is to think she'll react badly and try to find a way to deal with it on his own. That's what he's used to. But Kelly was also right about something else…

He and Sylvie have invested equally in this relationship so far. They've been honest with each other, even when it was hard, and each time she's surprised him with care and understanding above all else. There's historically no reason for him to think she'll be anything less than supportive.

So, decision made, he'll talk to her when she gets home tonight.

He's sure it'll be awkward, but he knows this is what she needs from him right now - even if she hasn't asked for it yet.

Once they've had enough of the cold night air, he takes Severide's advice to heart and busies himself by finishing up a couple of bids for simple home renovations. Finding work in winter isn't easy so there's no reason he should be procrastinating on the two new jobs that have managed to come his way. It also keeps him from checking in on Sylvie and the girls. They're fine. Besides, they're all three extremely capable. If anything happens he knows they are more than able to take care of it.

He's finalizing the second bid when he hears the front door open. Two loud laughs break the silence and echo toward his room. He peeks his head out the door to find a flushed face Sylvie doubled over in a booming laugh. He chuckles, unable to resist at least a small laugh in light of hers, and leans against his doorframe.

"Have fun?" He asks them.

"So much!" Sylvie replies with bright wide eyes and a sunny smile.

"Foster drank this one asshole under the table and then stole his date," Stella informs him with a snicker. "It was _epic_."

"Guy never saw it coming!" Sylvie exclaims with a dramatic wave of her arm. Stella sways slightly to avoid being hit. "He also totally deserved it. He was a complete dick."

"Complete," Stella agrees with an emphatic nod.

"Foster drank someone under the table?" Kelly asks as he emerges from his room.

He and Casey share a knowing amused look.

Matt swallows back a laugh. "Either of you try to keep up?"

"I did!" Stella exclaims, raising her hand proudly. "My ass is _drunk_!"

"My ass is just tipsy," Sylvie offers with a giggle that rings. It reminds him of Christmas bells. "I have learned my lesson with Foster."

"Both of your asses need water," Kelly tells them with a muted chuckle. "And Stella's ass needs to sleep off the rest of it."

Sylvie suddenly lets out a blast or rolling laughter with an adorable snort to break up one peel of laughter from the next. She braces herself with an arm around Kidd as she speaks in between guffaws.

"We're using the word 'ass' a lot. Like _a lot_," she explains.

And just like that he knows tonight is _not _the night for a serious talk. She's not quite drunk, but she's too close for his liking. Kelly heads to the kitchen, grabs two bottles of water, and hands one to Stella and then Sylvie. Severide leads Kidd away into his room, leaving Matt and Sylvie alone in the living room.

"Are you really not drunk?" He asks her skeptically.

She opens the bottle of water easily and then holds the lid and the bottle in separate hands. She holds them out to him as if showing him proof.

"I am _really_ not drunk," she assures him. "Couldn't have done that if I was drunk. Well, I could have but the water would not have stayed in the bottle."

He snorts and chuckles quietly. "Proof enough for me."

"It's a shame I'm not though. If I'm not drunk I can't accidentally trip and have you catch me, can I?" She asks with a coy smile.

"Maybe not, but you don't have to," Matt tells her, smiling widely. "If you want my arms around you then all you have to do is get over here."

"Excellent point," she replies, a moment before she sprints toward him.

He grunts as she collides against him and puffs out a hoarse laugh. Pressing her face into the curve of his neck while her arms wind around him tightly, she takes a big sniff with a happy hum.

"You still smell like the woods after a heavy rain, by the way. Even when not freshly showered."

"Good to know," he replies with a fond smile.

She pulls back to look at him and he knows what she's up to the minute her eyes linger too long on his lips. Her mouth finds his at the same time her hands dive under his sweater. She backs them into his room as she pulls the sweater up and over his head. He's gently shoved away while she takes a moment to shut and lock his bedroom door.

When she faces him again she's wearing a wolfish smirk. She turns to the side and brushes a hand down the side of her dress.

"I'm not too far gone to open a bottle of water, but I _do_ seem to be having trouble finding my zipper." Her tongue peeks out and wets her lips before an enticing smile overtakes her face. "A little help?"

"Uh, yeah—yeah," he stammers as he clumsily reaches for the tiny dangling zipper tab. "Happy to."

Jesus, this is hardly the first time they've done this but she still makes his heart race and mouth go dry every fucking time.

He sincerely doubts that will change. Nor does he ever want it to.


	26. We're Hopeless

**A/N: **Finished writing chapter 30 tonight! So you guys get 26! I'm holding off till midnight so there's technically been a day between my last post and this one lol. IT'S CHICAGO FIRE NIGHT, PEOPLE. JOE CRUZ IS GETTING MARRIED. How we feeling?

Anywayyy. Enjoy this chapter!

Happy reading!

angellwings

* * *

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX: We're Hopeless

* * *

It's their last day before another shift — Sylvie's penultimate shift on light duty, thank god — and she finds herself with a dull throbbing headache. Thankfully, she had enough self control last night to prevent any other repercussions. All she has to do is pop a couple Tylenol and she'll be right as rain. She wakes up snuggled into Matt's side with his arm loose but protective around her. She presses a featherlight kiss to his jaw before slinking out from under his arm and out of the bed. She throws on leggings and steals his CFD hoodie.

She needs water, coffee, and Tylenol. _STAT_.

When she wanders into the kitchen and living room area she finds Severide at the stove, standing in front of a skillet. He's got a spatula in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other.

"Morning," he greets with a smirk. "How's it going?"

"Not sure," she grumbles. "Not till I take something for this headache and dose myself with caffeine."

He points the spatula at the mostly full coffee pot. "Help yourself." And then nods toward the cabinet next to the refrigerator. "Tylenols over there."

"Bless you," Sylvie replies dramatically. "Matt is so lucky to have you."

He chuckles at her. "I'll be sure to tell him you said so."

"I'll tell him myself," she offers. "Just give me a half hour, at least."

Sylvie quietly makes her coffee, grabs a bottle of water, a couple of tylenol, and then sits on a stool in front of the island.

"Stella's still out," Kelly offers with an amused snort. "How much did she actually drink last night?"

"Honestly? I have no clue. I lost count after a certain point," Sylvie replies with a hoarse chuckle. "She had a lot of fun. That's for sure."

"Looked like you both did," Severide says with a smirk.

She grins. "Not as much fun as Stella and Foster."

"True enough," he says laughingly. "Scrambled eggs?"

"Please," she answers. "I'm famished."

"Casey still asleep?"

She nods and bites her lip to keep from grinning. She wore him out last night. She has a feeling he'll be asleep for a while. "He was pretty tired."

Kelly snickers and gives her a knowing grin. "Yeah, I bet."

She rolls her eyes and glares playfully at him. "Shut up."

"I probably don't need to tell you this," Kelly says as he looks back over his shoulder at her. "But he's really into you, you know."

She blushes and tucks a loose hair behind her ear. "I do know that, and the feeling's definitely mutual."

"And I know I also don't need to tell you that he's not had the best luck over the last several years."

There's a protective edge to his voice that contradicts his easy body language, and she immediately sits up a little straighter as if fortifying her posture for a fight. She doesn't want to fight with Severide but if he intends to intimidate her, he won't. She wants what she and Matt have started and no one will scare her away. Not even Kelly Severide.

"I remember," she answers with a solemn nod.

Kelly turns and places a plate of eggs and bacon down in front of her. "I'm tired of him being told instead of asked and I'm damn sure tired of him giving more than he ever gets back in return."

Severide's blue eyes have turned flinty and harsh with a warning. One she reads clearly, even if it's in between the lines.

"I don't plan on making any decisions for him, Kelly," she assures as she meets his eyes dead on. "And I have no intentions of withholding anything either. He deserves a partner, and I know that. _Trust me_."

His narrowed eyes and downturned mouth relax and transform into a mirthful stare and a bright grin. "Damn, I know you're serious if you're first naming me."

"What's happening with Matt isn't something I take lightly," she tells him before she releases the nervous breath she'd been holding. "So, hell yeah, I'm serious."

"Good," he says with a crooked smile. "That's all I needed to know."

"Speaking of protecting our friends," Sylvie says as she spears a bit of egg onto her fork. "What exactly _are_ your intentions with my Stella?"

"_Your_ Stella?" Kelly asks in amusement.

"My friend, my Stella," Brett clarifies quickly. "Don't avoid the question."

"My intentions are to make her happy by any means necessary and to try to be the— what did you call it? _Oh,_ right —_partner _she deserves. Satisfied?" He asks with a smug smile.

She squints at him for a quiet beat before finally nodding. "Yes, good enough for me."

He shakes his head and laughs softly at her as he turns back to the stove. "You know, I think you're gonna be good for him, Brett. I really do."

"I hope so," she replies softly before digging into her breakfast.

She's halfway done with her food when she and Severide hear shuffling from behind them. She turns her head and sees an adorably rumpled Matt approaching. He's put on sweats and an old worn t-shirt. He runs a hand through his hair that barely does anything to the small tuft in the front that sticks straight up. She smiles fondly as he comes to a stop next to her blinking groggily.

"Morning," he mumbles.

She chuckles and leans up on the stool so her lips can reach his cheek, giving him a quick kiss. "Morning."

"Breakfast?" Kelly asks as he reaches over his head and grabs Casey a coffee mug.

"Uh, yeah, thanks," Casey says as he takes the mug and heads toward the coffee maker. He's barely glancing at where he's going so she suspects this is all entirely muscle memory. Matt is absolutely the cutest, even half asleep.

Once he's got his coffee he takes up the stool next to her and then leans into her to press his lips to her temple in soft kiss. His left hand holds his mug while his right skims up and down her back. It's a casual gesture he's not even consciously doing. She adores how affectionate he is, even if it was initially unexpected. Like her, he's a caretaker. Between her job and her previous relationships, she's gotten accustomed to taking care of others. Which means she feels a bit of awe any time Matt does even the smallest thing to try and care for _her_. Kyle used to try to take care of her, but with gestures that accidentally came off as patronizing. She knew that was never his intention, but that's always how it felt. Somehow, Matt finds a way to take care of her that doesn't make her feel any less capable. She has no idea how he does it.

Severide sets a plate down in front of Matt and then excuses himself to check on Stella.

"After breakfast," he says as he lifts his fork. "We should talk."

"Talk?" She asks worriedly.

"Nothing bad, I promise," he says urgently.

She picks up her last strip of bacon and focuses a concerned stare on him. "When one half of the relationship says 'we need to talk' it's not usually good so you'll understand if I still worry, right?"

A muted chuckle escapes him as he answers her. "I get it, but I promise you it'll be okay, and I don't make promises I can't keep, remember?"

She sighs nervously but eventually nods. "I remember." She finishes up, washes her dishes, and then trails her hand across his back as she passes him to head toward his bathroom. "I'm gonna take a shower while you finish up. Meet you in your room?"

He nods as he swallows and then gives her a reassuring smile. "Absolutely."

Her anxiety must show on her face because his eyes turn warm and soft before he steps away from his breakfast to pull her into his arms. His hands settle on her waist, causing her hoodie to ride up just a little. The feeling of his skin on hers begins to soothe her before he ever speaks.

"Relax, okay?" He says with a soft grin. "It's just something that's been on my mind about us. Not the end of the world."

Her hands find his forearms and trail up them to rest on his shoulders. "You're sure?"

"I'm sure," he repeats. "Don't stress."

"Usually, I think you know me too well, but if you think there's a way for me to _not_ stress about this then maybe you don't know me at all," she says with a derisive snort.

He sighs, but his face is clearly more amused than exasperated. Leaning in, he rests his forehead against hers. "I'm happy. You know that, right?" He asks with a slight furrow in between his brows. "I'm happier than I've been in a long time and I have no plans to give you or _us_ up anytime soon. I need to know you know that."

"I suspected," she says as a pleased blush spreads across her cheeks. "But it's nice to hear it all spelled out like that." He releases a sound that's a mix between a scoff and a snicker before she continues. "I'm happy too, and I _really_ don't want to let you go either. Not until we find how far we can take this — maybe not even then."

"Good," he replies with a relieved exhale. "As long as we're on the same page. Now, go shower. I'll clean up in here. And we'll talk."

She nods and pries herself away from him. Already, she feels a hell of a lot better about whatever it is he has to say. It can't be as bad as she first imagined. He's made that clear.

By the time he finds her in his room later, she's showered, dressed, and feeling a lot more relaxed about things (thanks to the hot water) but she's still wary. As much as she wants to, she can't shake the caution in her heart.

He shuts his door and sits down next to her on the foot of the bed. He takes her hand and laces their fingers together before bringing her hand to his lips.

"We talked about what happens after the case a little the other day," he begins. "But you've also been taking about something else this entire time — about wanting things to get back to normal—"

"Normal, plus you," she interjects. "Just so we're clear."

He chuckles and nods. "Got it." His face sobers before he goes on. "I don't think we can wait for the case to be over to get used to that. You and I started when _nothing_ was normal. We have no idea what that looks like for us together. And I was thinking, the best way for us to figure that out is for both of us to get back to our pre-wreck routines."

Her eyes narrow as understanding dawns. "You mean spend more time apart, don't you?"

"We went from friends to living together in a week," he explains. "Going from living together to _dating_ is going to be strange and I just think spending a little time apart now we'll help us with that. And I'm not saying we never see each other. I'm simply saying we make time for the things we used to do and the people we used to see." He pauses with a hesitant concerned glance. "Does that make sense?"

She totally gets it. In fact, she's been worried about the exact same thing. But he looks so nervous that she can't resist teasing him at least a little.

"I mean, I _have_ been wondering how you managed to procrastinate on your construction and remodeling work," she says with a playful admonishing glare. "Such a slacker, Matt Casey. Really, I expect more from you."

For a moment, he looks genuinely wounded but then he catches the slight upward tick of her lips and rolls his eyes with a frustrated groan. "Jesus, Sylvie. That was _cruel_. You really had me going for a minute."

She laughs and then releases his hands to frame either side of his face with a gentle hold. "I'm sorry. I couldn't resist. You looked like you thought I was going to go off on you. Or storm out or something." She leans toward him and places a light kiss to the tip of his nose before smiling affectionately. "I get it, Matt. I truly do. I've been worried about all the same things."

"Really?" He asks with a hesitant smile.

"Really. I just wasn't sure what to do about it or how to bring it up. I didn't want it to be taken the wr—"

"—the wrong way," he finishes for her with a dry chuckle. "Yeah, I can relate."

"Don't you think it's funny that we said early on we weren't going to move too fast and then somehow that's exactly what we did?" She asks him with a small smirk.

"We're hopeless," Matt replies laughingly. "But at least you didn't put off paying jobs. I have really got to get back to work."

"Maybe not, but I _did_ put off Chloe. I promised to help her with wedding planning and the last couple of weeks I've given her excuse after excuse," Sylvie admits. "You're definitely not alone. We _both_ need a little space. When are we starting this?"

Matt gives her a thoughtful glance and slides further back onto the bed. He grabs her arm and pulls her with him. They don't stop until their backs are resting against the backboard.

"After next shift," he answers.

She's not sure why he chose that timeframe, but she likes it. It gives her plenty of time to enjoy him just like they are. Too attached and moving way too fast.

"I'm good with that," she agrees.

"Me too," he replies as he wraps an arm around her shoulders and tugs her closer, pressing a kiss to her temple. "It gives me a whole day to make out with you."

She laughs and twists in his hold to get a good look at his sinful smirk. It's an expression just for her. She _loves _it. "Matt Casey, you sure know how to show a girl a good time."


	27. Seeing the Appeal

**A/N: **So I finished chapter 31! Which means you guys get another chapter! This one is another short one, but it's SUPER FLUFFY so I think you guys will love it.

Happy reading!

angellwings

PS - I promise drama is on the way soon. ;)

* * *

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN: Seeing the Appeal

* * *

Sylvie's second to last light duty shift went off without a hitch. It was even miraculously quiet for Truck 81, leaving them plenty of time to savor their "attached at the hip" status before they officially let it go. But shift is over now and today is their first day attempting to get back to "normal". For Matt that means finally putting in those two bids he's been metaphorically stashing in his back pocket and finally getting his one indoor remodel job inspected. For Sylvie that means meeting Chloe for breakfast to talk about wedding arrangements.

And Matt can't be completely sure but he's fairly certain Sylvie plans to sneak off to her gym once that's done. He's tried to tell her to wait one more week lest she aggravate her hurt side. But he saw the stubborn gleam in her eyes when she vaguely told him she'd 'think about it' and he knows better. He'll let her believe she's getting away with it. She can't keep a secret to save her life so if she does sneak off he'll hear about it eventually.

They're in his truck and pulling away from the curb when her phone rings. Her face lights up when she reads the name on the screen. She answers immediately.

"Hi, mom!"

A call from her _mom_ put an instant smile on her face? Christ, she's adorable.

"Tomorrow? Yeah, that should be great! I can meet you. Send me your hotel information and I'll pick you up in the morning." Sylvie laughs and shakes her head. "Mom, really, this is great! I can't wait to see you both. Okay, right. Love you too. Bye."

She hangs up the phone and turns to him with excitement written all over her face. "My parents are gonna be staying in Chicago for a couple of days. They've never come up here. I've always gone back home! Oh, this is going to be so much fun!"

"A couple of days?" He asks. "So, tomorrow and the day after?"

She nods, distractedly. He can tell she's already planning every second of her day tomorrow.

"You should have them come by the Firehouse day after tomorrow," he suggests. "I'm sure 51 would love to meet them."

"Oh!" Sylvie exclaims happily. "And I want them to meet 51! I mean I talk about you guys enough. They should have faces to put with the names. That's a great idea! And next shift is my last one on light duty so I don't have to worry about leaving them behind at the house if there's a call. It's perfect!"

Her last shift on light duty. It hits him then that this worry he's felt since the wreck will never really go away. She'll always be on Ambo, running headlong into danger just the same as him. She's also PIC so if one of the paramedics is going first, it's going to be _her_. The image of her partially crushed under the rubble at the mattress factory intrudes on his thoughts and he grits his teeth to force it away.

He's going to need to find a way to better balance his worry with his faith in her abilities. She's the best paramedic in the damn city. She's worked hard at it. She _wants_ that reputation. He also knows she understands her own mortality. Sylvie knows she's not invincible. That makes her careful as well as _capable_. His sudden wave of anxiety crests and falls like it never happened.

"You okay?" Sylvie asks him with a concerned glance.

He nods, confidently. "Yeah, I'm good."

And, to his surprise, he actually is. His answer was honest. More honest than he realized when he gave it.

They get back to the loft and change clothes. Him for work and her for a casual breakfast with Chloe. Quicker than he'd like, they're standing in front of each other, ready to separate for the day.

It's unexpectedly awkward. They stand at an impasse in unbearable silence for a minute at least, maybe two, before Sylvie takes a deep breath and breaks the ice.

"Well, um, have a good day!" She says with an overly chipper smile. She rises on her toes and gives him a brief kiss and then bolts out the door. She doesn't even give him time to say it back.

It's a version of ripping off the band-aid, he supposes.

He spends the first half of the day doing a last check over the kitchen and laundry area renovation he'd been working on before Sylvie's wreck. He had to hire guys to rig everything for natural gas and he's put off getting that inspected for longer than he should have. (It didn't help that everybody involved seemed short handed and getting an inspection on the books this time of year was like pulling teeth.) The inspection takes up more of his day than it should. The guys he hired used outdated regulations so now he has to call them back out here to redo it all. Which fucking sucks since he's already massively behind schedule. He's just gotten off the phone with the dumbasses who did it wrong and wants nothing more than to throw his phone across the room in frustration until he sees the text message waiting for him.

"_Went cake shopping with Chloe! Thought you might appreciate this one!" _

Just the message from Sylvie alone is enough to bring a smile to his face but the attached image of a cake made up to look like the Stanley Cup is certainly intriguing.

"_That's a cake?"_

"_Unbelievable, right? Chloe ordered it as Joe's Groom's Cake."_

Groom's Cake? What the fuck is a Groom's Cake? He's not very experienced with actual weddings but he feels like he should know what that is.

"_There's a cake for the groom?"_

"_Sometimes. This one's going to be a surprise for Joe at the rehearsal dinner so don't you dare tell him, Matt Casey."_

"_Couldn't if I wanted to because I still don't understand it. And I'm fine with that."_

She replies with a laughing emoji that mysteriously has the same effect on him as her actual laugh. Probably because he can hear that laugh ringing through his ears right now.

His mood drastically improves. He's still frustrated but it no longer feels like the end of the world. It'll all happen in it's own time and stressing out over it won't make it happen any faster.

It's amazing what a brief exchange of text messages can do. They text on and off for the rest of the day.

He breaks for lunch while the dumbasses fix their mistakes and then drops off the completed bids that have been sitting in the passenger seat of his truck all morning. When he gets back to the site, the work has been redone but another inspector can't come out till tomorrow. He makes the appointment and then starts to pack up. He's done for the day. Without the inspection he can't move in the rest of the appliances.

He gets home around three and Sylvie isn't there. It's not that he expects her to be waiting on him but, based on her texts, she and Chloe finished up over two hours ago. He's about to text her just to check in when the door opens and Sylvie steps through. Her skin is flushed and glistening with sweat while a gym bag hangs down over one of her shoulders. She spots him on the couch and freezes.

"You're home early," she says with a surprised glance and a smile that more closely resembles a wince.

He feels the corner of his mouth twitch in a barely recognizable smirk. "And you went to the gym."

She looks utterly caught. He presses his lips together to avoid a laugh.

"Yes," she admits sheepishly. "Yes, I did. But I didn't do anything too strenuous, I swear! And I feel completely fine!"

He finally cracks an amused smile at her nervous demeanor and shrugs. "Okay."

"O—okay?" She asks skeptically.

He gets up from the couch and pulls her into his side, letting a kiss get lost in her hair. "You know your body better than me. If you think you're ready then who am I to disagree? I mean so long as you're not pushing it so hard you hurt yourself again."

"Sometimes, I think you're too good to be true," she tells him earnestly.

His reply is immediate. "Right back at'cha."

"How was your day?" She asks as she pulls away from him to hang her jacket on the coat rack and toe her sneakers off by the door.

"Frustrating, but manageable. Yours?" He asks, not really wanting to recount his inspection issues.

"Well, I love Chloe but I could go a few years before talking weddings _ever_ again," she answers with a tired sigh. "I think we went to every bakery in Chicago today."

"And you didn't bring anything home with you?" He asks feigning offense.

She quirks a brow at him and points at the kitchen island. "I came here to change before I went to the gym and dropped that off. You're welcome."

He notices a white bakery box he didn't see before. He walks over and opens it to find a variety of cupcakes in different colors and flavors.

"Bakers dozen cupcake sampler," she informs him. "Because why not?"

It's exactly what he needs at the end of this day. Two indulgences. Sylvie and a dessert.

"It's official," he says with a playful grin. "I have the _best_ girlfriend."

She stiffens and, initially, he thinks he's done or said something wrong, but then her eyes soften and her smile widens. He realizes it's the opposite. He's said something _right_.

"That's the first time you've called me that," she says as she joins him in the kitchen and wraps her arms around him from behind. Her arms go up and under his, with her hands landing on his shoulders — joining her chin as it comes to rest on his left shoulder too.

"Called you — what? — my girlfriend?" He asks as he brings up one of his hands to cover one of hers.

She nods against his shoulder. "I liked it."

"It feels hokey," he replies with a quiet laugh. "Or too young for us, maybe. But it's accurate. I mean, we're not dating other people. We're serious about each other…"

As his sentence trails off she fills the silence with her mirthful voice. "That is all _very _true, _boyfriend_."

He turns in her arms and leans back against the island, allowing her to lean into his chest. "Okay, now that I hear you say it, I'm seeing the appeal."

She chuckles and kisses his chin. "Thought you might."

It's interesting, he notes to himself. Being with her after spending the day apart makes everything they're building feel more _real_. As if this is an actual relationship now and not some sort of isolated but unbelievably beautiful snowglobe they've stumbled into. He knows 'absence makes the heart grow fonder' is typically used in more dire circumstances but the expression's never felt more real to him than it does right now. He was right. A little separation will be good for them. There's no telling what kind of growth will come from it, but he hopes it'll help them grow both as individuals and as a couple.

A couple. _Huh_. That's what they are now, he and Sylvie.

_A couple_.

It's a wild thought, but also completely _right_.


	28. The Spanish Inquisition

**A/N: **I FINISHED WRITING THIS STORY LAST NIGHT. It will be 32 chapters and an epilogue. I will be posting the final chapters over the next two weeks! Hopefully you guys will enjoy where I'm taking this!

Happy reading!

angellwings

* * *

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT: The Spanish Inquisition

* * *

The next day, he's finally able to get the natural gas connection inspected and approved. He's almost done moving the appliances in when his phone pings with a text message. He's expecting Sylvie. They've been exchanging texts all day long. She's currently with her parents. Her mother loves museums, she said, and her dad loves music so there was plenty to show them around town. It's close to dinnertime so it wouldn't be unreasonable to think she'd pick their conversation back up now.

But it's not Sylvie.

It's Christie. That's when he remembers that he hasn't actually spoken to her in a couple of weeks. He'd gotten..._distracted_.

"_Hey, Violet brought home a dog to 'foster' (obviously, now we're keeping it) and the doofy thing ran through our back screen door. Be a good little brother and come look at?"_

He snorts through a chuckle and shakes his head.

"_Fine, I'll do my brotherly duties I guess. I'll be finished up in an hour or so. Is it okay to come over then?"_

"_Perfect! Also you're staying for dinner."_

Great, he loves his sister but he hates her vegan cooking. He's sure some people absolutely love the vegan lifestyle. Matt Casey isn't one of them.

Lucky for him, his sister knows him pretty well.

"_We're ordering pizza."_

That's more like it.

"_In that case, I'm in."_

She replies with the eyeroll emoji and only the eyeroll emoji. He expects nothing less.

An hour and a half later, the door at his sister's place swings open.

"Matt!"

He grunts as Violet collides against him with a hug. He laughs and hugs her tightly in return.

"Hey, kid!" He says as she backs away and let's him in the house. "How's it going?"

"Dad finally got me a car," Violet announces with a smirk.

Matt winces. "Let's hope you don't drive like your mom."

Violet laughs loudly as his sister's voice drifts down the stairs.

"I heard that!"

"Good! You need to know I'm worried," Matt replies. He then turns to Violet with a playful glare. "Sometime soon you're taking me driving. I have to see how you drive."

"I've had a license for a year, Matt," Violet says with a put upon sigh. "The DMV wouldn't have passed me if I couldn't drive."

He barely withholds a scoff. He'd like to think that but he knows better. "Yeah, well, since I can't trust your mom's driving instruction, just humor me, okay?"

"Fine," she says with a shake of her head. "But only because you seem to doubt me and I wanna prove you wrong."

He chuckles and nods. "You wouldn't be a Casey if you didn't."

Christie appears at the bottom of the stairs and hugs him briefly. "Pizza's on the way and I've got beer in the fridge."

"Perfect," Matt replies. "Now, where's this door?"

"In the back, but before you take one step onto my new carpet…" her sentence fades slowly as she points down at Matt's boots.

He rolls his eyes but the affectionate grin on his face contradicts it. "Yeah, okay. You'll get a dog but I can't wear my shoes. Makes sense."

"We got a dog under _protest_," Christie says as she glares playfully at her daughter. "I was tricked!"

Violet lets out a bright laugh and shrugs innocently. "If you need me I'll be upstairs doing my homework _with my dog_."

"Spoiled brat," Christie calls after her fondly.

Matt's phone chimes as he toes off his boots. He pulls out his phone as Christie leads him to the back door. He grins warmly at the sight of Brett's name in his messages.

"_My mom is having a detailed conversation with our waiter about why this restaurant should stop serving farm raised salmon. OMG. Help! How do I stop this?"_

He laughs but tries to keep it quiet. He's not sure he's ready to explain Brett to Christie.

"_Find a new topic? What does she like to rant about more than farm raised salmon?"_

"_Oh, that's easy! Democrats! Never thought I'd live to see the day where I willingly discuss politics with my parents."_

This time there's no chance of stifling his laugh. He loves his sister and his niece but he kind of can't wait to get home and see Sylvie. He's been busy today and they've been texting so he's managed to avoid missing her...until now.

"Oh my God, Matt Casey! Why didn't you tell me!"

He yelps as his sister's hand suddenly slaps his shoulder. He looks up from his phone with an offended expression. "Ow! What? Tell you what?"

She points at his phone and then him. "Who's the girl? And how long have you been seeing her?"

He blinks at her in surprise. "How the hell do you know that I'm—"

"You were grinning and laughing like I haven't seen you since—" she stops and bites down on her bottom lip.

"Gabby?" He asks knowingly. "You can say her name. I won't have a breakdown at the mere mention of her."

She sighs and squeezes his arm consolingly. "Yeah, since the early days with Gabby." She pauses and then glares at him warily. "It's _not_ Gabby is it? You two aren't back together, are you? Because I liked her at first but the way she left was ridiculous and you never deserved that."

"No," he says with a crooked grin. "I'm not and never will be back with Gabby. But it's nice to know how you really feel."

"Hey, you don't hide how you feel about Jim so there's no reason for me to hide how I feel about Gabby," Christie tells him. "So, if it's not Gabby then who is she? Do I know her?"

"You've met her once or twice, yes," he admits hesitantly. "She works with me."

Before he can explain any further her face lights up and she grabs his arm excitedly. "Brett! It's Brett isn't it? That paramedic I've heard you talk about?"

"I didn't think that I talked about her that—_Jesus_, was I that obvious?" He asks in embarrassment.

"You don't tell that many firehouse stories but here lately she's been coming up in the ones Violet and I manage to get out of you," she tells him with an amused grin. "So I was right? It's her?"

He can't stop the smile from stretching across his lips as he answers her. "Yes, it's Brett. Sylvie Brett." He's not sure if he's ever mentioned her first name. "But it's pretty new and she's had a lot going on so it's been difficult trying to get our feet under us."

"But you like her? It's serious?" Christie asks.

"I'm...I'm pretty sure I _more_ than like her so yeah. It's serious," he replies truthfully.

"Then when you manage to get your feet under you, if that's what you want to call it, you're bringing her over for dinner. I want to _properly _meet Sylvie Brett," she insists. "Okay?"

He chuckles and nods hesitantly. "Yeah, okay. I'm not sure when that will be, though. So, don't start planning the menu just yet."

"Oh! Is she vegan?"

The memory of Sylvie scarfing down bacon that morning comes to mind and he laughs involuntarily. "Definitely not."

"Damn," Christie pouts. "I was hoping she could convince you since I can't."

"Convince me to be _vegan_?" Matt asks as he bites back another laugh. "Wow, that's a pipe dream if I've ever heard one. Never gonna happen. I don't care who you use to try and persuade me."

He swiftly dodges another swat before finally turning the conversation to her broken screen door. That is the reason he came by, after all.

* * *

"_Great. You talk politics with your parents and I'll eat veggie pizza with a cauliflower crust and we'll both be doing things we don't wanna do tonight."_

The image of Casey forcing himself to scarf down a "healthy" pizza is enough to earn a sympathetic wince, even if he can't see it. She imagines his grimace as he swallows and bites her bottom lip to try and hide a smile.

The waiter reaches her, after having survived her mother's plethora of questions and political beliefs, and she gives him an apologetic glance. "I'll have the Carbonara. And would it be possible to place a to go order?"

The waiter nods. "Of course. I could come back later for that order."

"Great! I would appreciate that."

No way she's letting Matt have veggie pizza for dinner.

The waiter jots something down and then walks away.

Her dad gives her a curious look before turning his eyes toward the dessert menu. He tries to sound casual as he speaks, but utterly fails. "So, who's the to go order for?"

"Oh! Um," she stammers with a blush. "Casey." She holds up her phone to indicate they've been texting. "He's being forced to endure veggie pizza at his sister's place. I thought I'd bring home something he actually likes to make up for it."

Her mother makes a noise. There's no word for it, but it's that noise all mother's make when they want to say something but think better of it. A short hum of interest is the only way she can think to describe it.

"What, mom?" Sylvie asks with a bemused grin.

"Nothing. I said nothing."

"But you thought something." She chuckles and then lifts her brows at her mother expectantly. "Just spit it out. We all know you're going to eventually."

Her father grins but then lifts the dessert menu to cover it.

"You seem awfully close to this Captain Casey is all," her mother says observantly. "You're living with him-"

"Not just him," Sylvie interrupts. "He has a roommate."

Her mother gives her a look that tells Sylvie she doesn't find that detail to be pertinent. "You work together. You talk about him all the time. If I didn't know any better I'd think the two of you are dating. But that can't be because if that was the case you would have told me. Considering how _close_ we are."

She was really hoping to avoid telling them until things with Matt were a bit more stable. She didn't want to get anyone's hopes up - least of all her own - but that's going to be impossible now. Her mother is onto her.

She sighs and stares at her parents pensively while she debates what to tell them and _how much. _"Matt has been really great to me these last four weeks. We've definitely gotten closer."

Her mother perks up and gives her a crooked grin.

While her father lowers the menu and quirks one brow at her. "He's _Matt_ now, is he?"

She blushes furiously and tries to play it off. "Well, off shift he's not Captain Casey. He's just...Matt."

"But that's the first time we've heard you refer to him by his first name," her mother points out. "Actually, that's the first time I've _ever_ heard his first name. I like it. Matthew is a very respectable, traditional name."

Well, shit. She's stepped in it now.

"How old is Matt?" Her father asks as his eyes narrow slightly.

"Thirty-eight. What does that matter?"

"It doesn't. Just curious. And he's still single at his age?"

Oh, here we go. The inquisition.

"No, honey," her mother says with an admonishing glare. "He was married to her old partner, remember? Gabby."

"That was _him?_ The Casey that was married to her partner is the same one she's dating?"

"Yes, dear. Keep up. They divorced. Last year. She told us this."

Dear god, kill her now. She adores her parents but she really does not want to spend the night rehashing the strange shared history between her and Matt.

"Maybe she told you, but I don't think she told me. I'd remember that," her father said with a furrowed brow.

Her mother lets out a long suffering sigh and then points an eager smile at her daughter. "So, how serious is it?"

"Mom, I didn't say we were dating," Sylvie replies nervously.

"Oh please!" Her mother exclaims as she waves a dismissive hand at her. "A mother knows. Honestly, I thought you were dating him last year after things ended with Kyle the first time around. The way you talked about him—well, I used to tell your father all the time that I thought you had a crush. Didn't I, honey?"

"I'm sure I don't remember," her father answers flatly.

"Well, I did. That's why I was so surprised when you called and told me you were engaged to Kyle and moving back to Fowlerton! I assumed you'd moved on with Casey. I was worried I didn't know my daughter as well as I thought I did, but now I understand."

Well, that's good because Sylvie doesn't. "You thought I had a crush on Matt last year?" She did but she wasn't aware it had been so obvious that her mother noticed. "And what do you mean, you understand? Understand what?"

"Obviously, you were unsure about having feelings for your former best friend's ex-husband so when Kyle proposed you retreated to what was safe and familiar and then if you add to that losing your friend Brian—_of course_ you wanted to come home. That was awful. I'd want to run away for a little while too if that had been me," her mother explains with a sympathetic smile.

Sylvie blinks at her, feeling stunned - like she's concussed or had the wind knocked out of her. Holy shit. Her mother knows her far too well. Better than she knows herself, even. None of that even occurred to her until _just now._ "I-I suppose so, yeah. That makes sense."

"I think you've watched too much of that Dr. Phil," her father grumbles. "How's their tiramisu? Is it any good?"

"It's very good. You'll love it," Sylvie answers as she tries to reel in her spiraling thoughts. Suddenly every moment after Kyle dumped her is replaying through her mind in fast forward.

"I think you broke our daughter," her father comments glibly with a fond but exasperated look at his wife. "Don't listen to her. The past doesn't matter. Even if I am a little confused about this Casey being the same one your last partner was married to. There's really not another Casey at that firehouse of yours?" He stops and shakes himself, forcing himself back on topic. "Not important. Look, all that matters is that you like the boy—if I can call him that at 38–and he makes you happy. If he's good to you and good _for you_ then that's all I care about. I will not see you in the middle of another Harrison situation. It was hard enough to watch that the first time around."

Her mind quiets and she focuses a warm smile on her father. "Thank you, daddy. I appreciate that and you don't have to worry. Matt couldn't be more opposite from Harrison if he tried." She's done revisiting the past. Her dad is right. It doesn't matter. All that matters is what she and Casey are building _now_. "Matt is truly the most wonderful man I've ever met," she admits softly. "I feel very fortunate to have him in my life. You know how every now and then you lose your equilibrium? You just have a moment where you feel like your falling - just waiting for a crash landing that never comes?" She waits for them to nod before she continues. "Well, I've felt like that for a few years now. I couldn't find my center - anywhere. But then…"

Her mother smiles gently at her and shares a knowing look with her father.

"But then...Matt?" She prompts.

Sylvie nods and sighs happily. "But then _Matt_. I don't feel like I'm waiting on a crash landing anymore." She laughs and shakes her head at herself. "That probably makes absolutely no sense."

Her mother reaches across the table and squeezes her hand. "No, baby, that makes _complete_ sense. I know exactly what you mean."

Her parents share a secretive look and Sylvie can't help but wonder exactly what they think they know. A part of her wants to ask but then another part of her thinks she's better off in the dark. For now, she'll side with the latter part.

Best to leave it alone.

* * *

Matt walks through the front door and immediately heads to the fridge. He's _starving_. When his sister said she was ordering pizza, he assumed it would be something resembling a normal pizza. He should know better by now than to assume anything with Christie. He shoved down two pieces of that veggie pizza to be polite and then washed away the taste of the cauliflower crust with a beer. Now he's home, and the fridge is surprisingly empty.

Great. Perfect. He should have stopped on the way home.

The door opens and he turns to find Sylvie entering the apartment. She extends two styrofoam containers out in front of her. "I hope you like Lasagna and Cannolis."

"You are brilliant," he declares as he takes the containers from her. He thanks her with a soft lingering kiss as he does.

"The minute you told me what she ordered for dinner I knew I couldn't let your suffering be in vain," Sylvie says with a playful grin.

He snorts in amusement. "Like I said, you're brilliant. How was dinner?"

"Good! Sort of felt like The Spanish Inquisition at certain points," she tells him with a light chuckle. "But good. It was all I could do to keep them from following me over here so they could meet you, by the way. You should be grateful NCIS is on tonight. They never miss it or else they'd be over here right now."

He laughs as he sits down at the kitchen island and opens his food. "You know I'd be okay with that, right? I'd like to meet your parents."

She steps into his side and skims a hand up and down his back. "I know, but this is still so new and I didn't want to freak you out with a one-on-one situation." She kisses his cheek and then walks over to the coat rack as she unbuttons her coat. "They're coming to the firehouse on their way out of town tomorrow instead. So, you'll still get to meet them just with less pressure. It's better that way. Trust me. My mother may as well work in the Intelligence Unit with the way she interrogates people. How was your day?"

"Busy but productive," he answers. "And I let a little too much time pass since the last time I saw Christie and Violet, so even though I hated the food, dinner was worth it. Oh, yeah, and Violet has a car now, by the way. I mean she's had a license for a year but it didn't feel real cause she didn't have anything to drive. But _now_...Christ, I am _old_. She's seventeen! My niece is seventeen! When did that happen?"

Sylvie hangs up her coat and smiles fondly at him. "That's a good point. You know, I may have to rethink this. I didn't realize how _old_ you are. First you don't know what Spotify is and now this? This might be the straw that breaks the camel's back."

He gives her half a smirk and rolls his eyes while she walks back over to the island. "Very funny."

"Oh, I'm totally serious," she tells him with a teasing grin as she wraps her arms around him from behind. "I mean, wow, I had no idea you were so _ancient_."

"Ancient, huh?" he asks as he leans back into her hold. "You just wait till I finish eating and I'll show you how _not_ ancient I actually am."

"Looking forward to it," she murmurs against the shell of his ear.

Before she pulls away she gently nips at his earlobe and very nearly causes him to forget dinner all together. If he wasn't starving he'd choose to feast on her instead. She must somehow read his mind because she laughs brightly and squeezes his shoulders.

"Eat first. You'll need the calories," she tells him with a wink.

God, he loves her. He loves everything about her. Head to toe, inside and out, down to every microscopic atom.

Now, if he could only work up the courage to tell her that would be great.


	29. You Get the Horns

**A/N: **Three chapters after this and an epilogue! Getting close to the end! Hope you guys enjoy!

Happy Reading!

angellwings

* * *

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE: You Get the Horns

* * *

The morning briefing descends into excited chaos after Boden lets Brett stand up and say a few words. Matt knew it would happen, but the fall out is still amusing. 51 is so excited to meet Brett's parents that you'd think celebrities were paying them a visit. Though, with the amount Fowlerton stories they've all heard, maybe that's what The Bretts actually are.

"Guys! Seriously!" Sylvie begs. "Just don't tell any stories that have to do with me and danger, okay?"

"Like the time you were kidnapped by the mob?" Capp asks, seemingly innocently.

"Yes," she replies with a dry glance. She looks as if she can't believe he's even asking. To be fair, no one can. But then…it's _Capp_. "_Especially_, that one!"

"Wait," Foster says with wide intrigued eyes. "When did this happen? Because this is the kind of stuff I _want_ you guys to tell me. Unlike that story of the time Tony nearly lost his pants during a drill."

"I can tell you all about it after my parents leave," Sylvie answers with a chuckle.

"What about the time you tried to save a girl and nearly fell into an industrial pit in a building with no central heat in the middle of the _coldest_ Chicago winter on record?" Cruz asks with a teasing smirk.

"Keep talking. It's not like I talked sense into your fiancé or anything," Sylvie says with a playful glare. Her sarcasm has never been more blatant. "You owe me nothing."

Matt covers an amused grin by _casually _swiping a hand across his chin. God, she's adorable. But as the chatter and the teasing picks up again, he decides to help her out.

"We've got it under control, Sylvie. They won't leave here traumatized," he promises, tossing a stern look around the room. "Isn't that _right_, guys?"

The room mumbles a general agreement and then Boden dismisses them.

Sylvie lets everyone clear out and then approaches him once they're alone. She beams at him and presses a quick kiss to his lips.

"Thank you for the back up," she tells him with a light laugh. "I needed it."

"Happy to help," he replies. "Did they say when they're arriving?"

"No, but dad never leaves a hotel one minute before check out so probably after 11," she replies with a fond roll of her eyes.

She starts to walk away but he hooks a finger through the belt loops on her trousers and reels her back in. She gives him an expectant look.

"Yes?"

"Just to clarify, I _shouldn't_ tell your parents about the time you sedated a high as a kite bodybuilder type that was trying to strangle your partner?"

"Matt!" She admonishes as she punches his bicep, _hard_. "Don't you dare!"

He winces and laughs loudly — holding his arm where she hit it. "Jesus! That hurt!"

"In addition to spin classes, I take a little kickboxing. I'm sorry, did I not tell you that?" She asks as she blinks her big blue eyes at him in false innocence.

"No. You did not," he answers with a delighted smirk. He shouldn't enjoy provoking her this much. "How convenient."

She shrugs and then spins out of his reach. "Well, now you know," she calls, tossing a flirtatious grin over her shoulder as she walks away.

He chuckles to himself and then sets off for his quarters. As he passes Severide's quarters he emerges with a sideways smirk.

"Today's the day you meet the parents, huh?" Kelly asks. "You have an interesting way of 'stepping back'."

He rolls his eyes at the teasing and shrugs. "It's not intentional. They came to town and wanted to see the Firehouse. What am I supposed to do? Hide until they leave?"

"No, I'm just saying, the timing's pretty funny," Severide observes with a chuckle.

"Yeah, that's me, the guy with the weird timing," Casey replies with a sigh. "Sylvie said she talked them down from following her to the loft. She arranged today - saying it would be 'less pressure'."

Severide looks impressed and nods. "She's smart. There's a lot to show them here and you should just be a brief stop on the tour instead of the main event. She's looking out for you, man."

The bells ring out and cut their conversation short. He doesn't have much time to mull over Kelly's very correct observation. Sylvie is truly looking out for him and he loves her even more for it. The call turns out to be a large blaze and it takes up a few hours of their time when it's all said and done. They arrive back at the house and get cleaned up. When they emerge from the locker room later, they're greeted by loud laughter and booming voices. Gallo and Ritter were among the first to leave to start lunch but as Casey crosses into the common area he finds them leaning against the counter in the kitchen. He starts to ask about lunch when he notices three large catering trays full of sandwiches laid out next to a stack of plates and a selection of condiments.

"What's this?" Kelly asks as he grabs a plate.

"Mr. and Mrs. Brett brought it," Ritter tells them. "They're with the Chief and Sylvie now in the bullpen."

"Nice," Severide says with a smirk. "I like them already."

Not surprising. 51 seems to like anyone who brings them food. Matt makes himself a plate and then sits down at the round table with a stack of paperwork. He'd retreat to his quarters but with the Bretts here that feels rude. He's finished with lunch and focused fully on his reports when Sylvie finally leads her parents into the common area.

He knows she's adopted but that doesn't stop him from seeing the family resemblance. It's just more of a resemblance of personality rather than looks. Mrs. Brett makes a beeline for Cruz.

She beams at him and grabs his face — patting his cheeks in a parental fashion.

"I have been looking at you through a screen for so long, young man, it is good to finally meet you," she says as pats his cheeks one more time. "So handsome. How's your Chloe? How many more weeks until the wedding?"

The rest of the room exchanges fond grins. Sylvie's a little less exuberant but just as caring.

"Martha," Mr. Brett says with a chuckle as he peels his wife's hands away from Joe's face. "Let the man breathe." He shakes Cruz's hand and then steps back — content to let Joe and Martha carry the conversation.

Just like that, it's instantly clear where Sylvie inherited her cool head.

Severide fills the empty seat next to him while Sylvie introduces her parents around the room. Mr. Brett seems to find Mouch and Herrmann delightful while his wife dotes on Gallo and Ritter.

"Too skinny," she tells them as Sylvie pulls her away. "Eat more of those sandwiches, you two. We brought plenty."

Both men grin and nod in thanks, but walk away without grabbing another sandwich. Matt smiles while fighting off a chuckle. Oh, yes, these are definitely the people who raised Sylvie Brett.

Finally, it seems to be his turn. He nudges Kelly with his elbow as he stands to indicate Severide should follow his lead. Severide nudges him back with a glare as if to say he didn't need the reminder. He was gonna stand anyway.

"And you two must be Severide and Casey," Martha announces. "I can tell by the brotherly glaring. Now, which is which?"

Severide lets loose a snorting chuckle and then gently shakes Martha Brett's hand. "Kelly Severide, ma'am. It's great to actually meet you. We've heard a lot about Brett's family."

Mr. Brett's eyes breeze over Kelly and then land on Matt with a shrewd narrowed glance.

Sylvie clears her throat as she comes to stand by her father's side. She motions between them.

"Dad, this is Captain Casey. Matt, this is my dad, Samuel," Sylvie states before nervously taking in and holding a breath.

"So, you're the Captain we hear so much about?" Samuel asks as he offers his hand for a shake.

"I suppose so," Casey replies modestly. "But, please, call me Matt. I only make these slackers call me Captain." He nods to the rest of the firefighters in the room and smirks as he shakes Samuel's hand. "We're glad you could make it out to see us."

"Well, _Matt_," Martha says as she steps in front of Samuel and sticks her hand in his. She barely shakes his hand before letting go. It's more of a soft squeeze than a shake. "We're glad we could make it out here too. Sylvie's with all of you more than she's with us. It's heartening to see she's so well taken care of around here."

"She does just as much to take care of us, Mrs. Brett. Trust me on that," Matt tells her. "You've got an amazing daughter and 51 wouldn't be the same without her."

"It's true," Kelly adds. "She's saved my hide at least once before." He grins and then points at Brett as he begins to reminisce. "Remember that time the guy was tangled in a cable and there was another guy holding it over the side of the building? That was a crazy call."

Severide either misunderstands Sylvie's responding glare or ignores it. Given the way Severide's eyes alight with mischief, Matt has a feeling it's the latter.

"She pulled a stellar slide maneuver and caught my guys when we all almost fell off the roof. Held them there with basically nothing but grit and determination," Kelly informs them. "Almost asked to make her an honorary member of Squad that day because I was so impressed."

If looks could kill Severide wouldn't just be dead; he'd be obliterated in the afterlife too. Matt's never seen Sylvie look so lethal before.

"You did _what_?" Her mother screeches.

Sylvie's face transforms at the drop of a hat. The glare she pointed at Severide turns wide and innocent with a bright comforting smile.

"It wasn't that dramatic," Sylvie fibs as she walks around her parents to face Severide. Matt notices the toe of her shoe lands on Kelly's before she offers further explanation. "Severide's just trying to make me look good in front of my parents." She leans her weight into the balls of her feet and then presses down hard on Kelly's foot. "_Aren't you_, Severide?"

He winces almost imperceptibly before he answers her. "Yep, that's...that's exactly what I'm doing."

Sylvie's foot leaves Severide's once he's played along. "He's sweet like that." She glances down at her watch and then waves politely at both him and Kelly. "If you guys are planning to be home by tonight then we should wrap this up. Come on, I'll show you my rig— oh and you can meet Foster! We'll make that our last stop."

Matt presses his lips together in a stern line to keep from guffawing loudly. Meanwhile, Kelly is keeping completely still and barely breathing. The minute all three of the Bretts are out of earshot, Kelly deflates and Matt lets his laugh fill the air around him.

"Shit! For someone who looks like such a lightweight that fucking _hurt_," Severide exclaims.

Matt laughs harder at Kelly's surprise and then shrugs. "You play with the bull, you get the horns. How's your foot?"

"Possibly broken," he pouts.

Matt lifts a shoulder carelessly and flashes him a smug grin. "Next time I guess you'll know better, huh?"

"Fuck you," Severide replies with a begrudging laugh. "That was brutal."

They both retreat back to their quarters. Once alone, Matt breezes through the rest of his paperwork. The nerves over meeting Mr. & Mrs. Brett no longer distracts him and neither does the constant disruptions from the gang at 51. Just as he finishes up, Brett knocks on his open door.

He looks up with an apologetic smile. "Severide didn't get you in too much trouble, did he?"

"I managed to walk it back with mom, but I got the impression dad was playing along to keep mom from worrying," she tells him with a dry chuckle and a shrug. "We'll see what they say when they call me tonight. I won't know either of their actual opinions until then."

She steps into his quarters and sits down on his lap. He feels her hands on his shoulders before they trail up to rest on either side of his jaw. "I got a definite opinion on you, though."

He quirks a brow anxiously. "Do I want to know?"

She chuckles and meets his eyes with a fond gaze. "Mom thought you were cute. Dad thought you seemed reliable."

"Cute and reliable," he repeats. "I've definitely had worse reviews from a girlfriend's parents before so I'll take it."

"Sorry if my mom was a little pushy," Sylvie apologizes with a wince.

"Please," he says with a dismissive shake of his head. "She was just a bit excited, that's all. Your parents seem great. It was nice of them to bring lunch."

"Well, I'm glad you think so," she says, looking relieved. "They've been known to be a bit intimidating."

"Known by who?" He asks with a furrowed brow. "Because they just seemed like caring and involved people to me."

She glances away from his face with a small wry grin. "I've been told they're _too_ involved. So, just...be prepared for that now that they've met you."

"I think all families are too involved. I mean just look at 51," Casey replies with a grin and a light laugh. "Besides, if it helps, Christie made me promise to schedule a dinner with you and me and her and Violet whenever we're ready for that. That probably won't be as quick and painless as the meet and greet with your parents."

That earns him a soft smile and a quick kiss. "That does help, actually. Thank you. Oh! And I just wanted to remind you I leave in a couple of hours for my doctor's appointment."

Matt's stomach sours along with his mood. He'd almost forgotten about that. "I still think I could get away with bringing in a relief Captain for the rest of shift and go with you-"

"No, Matt," Sylvie interrupts with an affectionate yet exasperated grin. "We talked about this. It's just a final follow up. I can drive myself there and drive myself home. I'll be fine."

That's all true and he knows it's a simple appointment, but something about it still feels unsettling. "You'll call me after?"

"Of course," she promises. "Don't worry about me. Focus on the rest of shift. You're the one who's literally running into burning buildings."

"Yeah," He replies with a scoff. "It's not really that simple, Sylvie."

"I know," she agrees with a stern glare. She sounds frustrated but not angry. The minute she elaborates he understands why. "Why do you think I've been camping out at Tower every time you leave for a call? If I can deal with the worry every shift for a month then you can deal with it for an afternoon."

He sighs in resignation and cups the side of her face, running his thumb along her cheekbone. "Fair enough," he says repentantly. "You're right." He pulls her lips down to his and risks a lingering kiss despite the door to his quarters being wide open. When he pulls away he rests his forehead against hers. "Just be careful. Okay?"

"Always," she swears. "I promise."


	30. Been Waiting All Day

**A/N: **two chapters after this one and the epilogue! Hope you guys are ready for it! ;) You know what I'm not ready for? The last episode of Chicago Fire tonight! I totally get why this is the last episode but I'm still gonna miss my show and that would be the case whether last ep was 20 or 23. I'm hoping I'll have plenty to keep me busy writing during hiatus but we'll see! I definitely have some things ready to go once this fic is wrapped up! ;)

Happy reading!

angellwings

* * *

CHAPTER THIRTY: Been Waiting All Day

* * *

"Hey," Sylvie says as she finds Casey in the common area later.

"Hey," he repeats as his eyes flick over to a nearby wall clock. She watches as he grimaces very slightly. He knows what's coming.

She nods over to the pantry where they can have some semblance of privacy. He follows immediately, comically cutting off whatever conversation he's been having with Mouch.

"We'll talk about it later then!" Mouch calls out dryly as they both walk away.

"Hope I didn't interrupt anything important," Sylvie tells Matt with a mirthful grin.

"Trudy and Herrmann are arguing about maraschino cherries again," Matt replies with an eye roll. "Mouch is stuck in the middle."

"So, life or death then. Got it," she jokes with a soft chuckle. "I've got to go so I can make my appointment."

"Right," he says with a thick swallow. He looks as if he is working very hard to maintain a neutral expression. She appreciates the effort.

"I'll call you as soon as I'm done and tell you what the doctor says," she assures him.

He nods, stiffly. "Sounds good."

She smiles fondly at him and presses a lingering kiss to his cheek. "Thank you for being okay with this." She says as she wraps her arms around him. "You're adorable when you're trying not to be so grumpy."

"Something about this doesn't feel right," he confesses as he returns her embrace. "I just can't put my finger on it."

"I think maybe," she replies with a hesitant smile. "This is a part of that detaching ourselves from each other issue. Sounds like growing pains to me, Matt."

"I don't know, maybe," he replies with a tired sigh.

She places a quick kiss to his jaw as she steps out of his arms. "It's just a doctor's appointment. I'll be fine."

"You're right," he says. She can tell he's forcing himself to nod. He smiles softly at her as he continues. "You'll be fine. I'll just keep reminding myself of that, and I'm sure I'll snap out of it."

"We can talk more about it later if you don't," she assures him. "See you later."

She looks back over her shoulder only once as she leaves just to verify that Matt didn't follow her. When she looks back, he's standing in the kitchen with a look of concentration on his face as if not walking her out is causing him pain. Briefly, she starts to get a bad vibe too but she brushes it off as a side effect of her empathetic heart. If Casey feels something, she's started to feel it too and this is no exception.

She's just going to the doctor. She'll be fine.

And, it turns out, she is. The appointment goes off without a hitch. She gets there safely, the doctor clears her for duty, hands her the reinstatement forms, and sends her on her way. No problems or complications of any kind.

She pulls out her phone as she steps outside and starts to call Matt only to have her phone ring with an incoming call. She glances down at the screen and her brow furrows as Hailey's name and number appears. She immediately answers.

"Hey, Hailey," Sylvie says lightly. "What's up?"

"Well, I thought I would call and give you the good news. The case is officially closed. We were able to back up the suicide with evidence so Hope's killer is now officially off the streets," Upton informs her. "You and Cruz can get back to your normal lives."

"That's great!" Sylvie exclaims. Though, it doesn't feel great. She understands Hailey's words, but there's doubt there nonetheless. She's been living with this for so long.

Can it really be over?

"I'll let you go so you can call Cruz and give him the good news," Hailey suggests. "Let me know if there's anything else you need!"

"Thanks! I will! I appreciate you guys taking this on for me," she replies gratefully.

"Anytime," Upton assures her. "All you have to do is ask."

She hangs up with Upton and walks to her car. She doesn't call Matt until she's sitting in the driver's seat with the engine running. The call goes to voicemail after several rings. He's probably out on a call. It is rush hour, after all.

"Hey, Matt! Just wanted to give you an update on the appointment. It went great. I'm cleared for duty and back on Ambo next shift. Also, Hailey called and they officially closed the case! She said Cruz and I can move back into our place!" Sylvie takes a beat before going any further. Matt may not like the next part of her plan. "I'm going to go over to the apartment now and check on things. Maybe do some cleaning. Give me a call when you can!"

She pauses awkwardly before scrambling to hang up. Her tongue got caught on a couple of words that she _barely _managed to withhold. She has to hang up quickly to keep her from throwing them out there in a voicemail of all things.

The voice in her head says them when her actual voice cannot.

"_Love you!"_

Holy shit, _what_? Why did _that_ almost escape her lips? Is that true? Does she love him? It only takes a few seconds of soul searching to find the answer.

_Yes_.

Yes, she _does_ love him.

But it's only been a few weeks! How can she possibly love him already?

"Oh, no, Sylvie," she admonishes herself with a wince. "_No_. What the hell? What happened to taking it _slow_?"

She allows herself a brief moment of panic before pulling out onto the road and setting off for her apartment. While she drives she thinks back on the weeks since the wreck. Slowly, but surely, the development of her feelings starts to fall into place. Every day since, she's fallen a little harder and a little faster. It was all because of him. He's been entirely too good to her. He's supported her and cared for her every step of the way, but never in a way that felt condescending. Even today, when she got a little frustrated with him being overprotective he still never crossed that line into overbearing and that makes all the difference in the world. Sylvie understands that distinction all too well. In fact, in a lot of ways it allows her to appreciate his overprotective nature more. It's another example of how he's more of a partner or helpmate than she's ever had before.

_Of course_, she loves him. How could she not? He never gave her any other choice.

So, what happened to taking it slow? _Matt happened._

And she couldn't love him more for it.

She has no idea what she's going to do about it or if she should tell him but, for the time being, that doesn't matter. She wears a goofy grin all the way up to her apartment. Right now, she wants to enjoy this feeling. She wants to enjoy the giddy rush and heart pounding excitement that comes with a positive self realization. She wants to think about Matt and put her adrenaline to good use.

When she steps inside, it's clear the apartment has been abandoned for a few weeks. It's going to need a good hard clean. It just so happens she has a sudden rush of energy to burn.

She gets to work and furiously cleans the bathrooms and her bedroom. By the time she reaches the living room and the kitchen, she realizes it's dinnertime and she's starving. She orders Chinese food from her favorite neighborhood place (that she's missed _dearly_). As she hangs up with them, Casey finally calls her back.

She's still electrified from realizing she loves him, but the first time she says those words to him will not be over the phone. She will not tell him during this phone conversation, she promises herself.

"Hey!" She says brightly as she answers the call.

"Hi," he replies. "You at your place?"

"Yes," she answers. "Halfway through a deep clean, already. How are things there?"

"Just finished clean up on a multivehicle pile up," he informs her. "It was a madhouse. Took forever to clear the debris."

"God, that sounds awful. Did everybody make it?" Sylvie asks as she leans against her kitchen counter. Suddenly, only hearing his voice isn't good enough. Especially for this answer. "Wait. Switch to FaceTime, please."

"Ah-okay, how do I switch it?"

She presses her lips together to keep from laughing. His unsure voice is adorable and she can picture his confused expression in her head. God, she loves his aversion to technology. (There's that word again. Jesus, how did she not realize her feelings sooner?)

"Look at your screen and press the button that says 'FaceTime'," she instructs once she has her amusement under control.

"Got it. Hold on-"

His face fills the screen and she can't resist beaming at him with a full smile.

"There you are, handsome," she says happily.

He chuckles and blushes slightly. "I don't know about that. I probably look as tired as I feel."

He does, but it doesn't mean he's not handsome.

"Everybody made it," he tells her as he answers her earlier question. "At least as far as I know, anyway."

"Glad to hear that," she replies honestly.

"Congratulations on the all clear," Matt tells her with a proud grin. "We're all ready to have you back on Ambo. Especially Foster."

She laughs and nods. "I'm sure. Rafferty driving her crazy yet?"

"More like the other way around," Matt tells her with a snort. "Rafferty asked me when you were coming back earlier. Now, I can give her an answer."

"Yes. Please, tell her I'll be back on _my rig_ next shift and it better be just how I left it," Sylvie says possessively.

Matt's smile turns fond as he nods. "I'll tell her." He stops and gives her a thoughtful glance. He only speaks again after he's had a moment to consider his words. "We should go out tomorrow night. To celebrate."

"Celebrate?" She asks.

"The case is wrapped up and you're back on 61. I'd say those are pretty amazing reasons to celebrate, Sylvie," he says with an amused glance - as if he can't understand why she's confused. "You pick the place and I'll treat."

"Well, if you insist. What kind of out are we talking?" She asks with a playful quirk of her brow.

"The kind of out that will allow me to make a reservation with a day's notice," he tells her, and then a wolfish smirk stretches across his face. "And that might also put you in a little black dress."

Sylvie props her phone up on top of a nearby stack of cookbooks and then pulls her lap top out of her bag. "Well, with that kind of criteria, let me do a little browsing first."

Matt laughs wryly. "Oh, boy, how intense is this research going to be? Because I have paperwork I need to get to-"

"Shut up, you," she says with a light laugh. "Let me work my magic." There's a loud knock at her door and she pulls her cash out of her back pocket. "Oh, that's my Chinese food. Do you know how amazing it feels to order delivery from my favorite place again? This has been the best day."

Casey grins fondly at her. "I'm glad. It's nice to see you so happy."

She doesn't know how to respond to that. It's too beautiful of a concept for words. She's not sure anyone, besides her parents, has ever said that to her. "Thank you, Matt." She stops for a moment to meet his eyes with a grateful glance. "Alright, I'll be right back. Let me just pay for this food."

She eagerly opens the door with the cash for the food extended out in front her. Her eyes land on a head angled down, wearing a red ball cap brandishing the letters "F.F.D." Her entire body tenses. She knows that ballcap. She saw it in her nightmares for _weeks_. She could never see the logo clearly but the colors and the shapes match the vague outline in her head. The man that ran her off the road and murdered Hope was wearing that hat. Her throat goes dry and forces her to swallow. The shock causes her to take one reflexive step back as the person standing in her doorway looks up.

"You're finally home," he says with a dry chuckle. "I've been waiting all day."

Oh god, she knows that voice. She knows that face. She knows _him_.

"Jordan?"

"Sylvie," he says calmly. "Can I come in?"

She grabs the door and pulls it as closed as she can. She talks herself out of slamming the door in his face. He doesn't know she recognizes his cap. She doesn't want to tip him off in case that means what she thinks it means, but how can it? The only thing it can mean is that he was the one who - But he can't be because PD found Hope's ex dead with a confession lying next to him! How is that even possible?

"I-um, you know, now's not the best time. This place is kind of a mess," Sylvie says as she tries to aim a pleasant smile at him. All the while her brain is screaming at her not to panic. "Hey, actually, I never got your number when you were at the Firehouse. We should trade numbers and then I can call you when I finish up here. Maybe we can grab a coffee?"

"That sounds nice," Jordan says with a flat grin. "But I think we both know you're trying to brush me off. And that's not going to work. Let me in, Sylvie."

"I would love to let you in, but honestly, Jordan, this apartment is a terrible mess and I-"

Something cold, metal, and blunt is suddenly pushed into her ribs. A terrified chill runs through her veins as she realizes what it is.

"I don't want to use this, Sylvie, but if you don't let me in I may have to."

The sound of a gun cocking echoes around them, louder than any explosion she's ever heard.

Fuck. Oh god. What is she supposed to do _now_?

* * *

**A/N: **I'm sorry. *grins evilly* Mostly.


	31. We Have a Situation

**A/N: **How about last night's episode? Poor Sylvie, she never catches a break does she? The interviews for S9 look promising though! I'm all for Derek turning up the heat on Brettsey! ;) Speaking of Brettsey! You guys ready for this chapter? Just one more after this and then the epilogue! Hope you enjoy!

Happy reading!

angellwings

* * *

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE: We Have a Situation

* * *

Matt's not sure what he's seeing at first. Sylvie is taking an awfully long time to get her food, that's all he knows. He can't really hear the conversation since it's around the corner from the kitchen. There's movement around the entryway wall. He easily makes out Sylvie as she backs her way toward the kitchen and stares in shock at the person who's joined her.

_Jordan._

And _then_ he spots the gun.

_Fuck!_

He knew that guy was a creepy asshole but he never thought—_Jesus Christ!_

Sylvie's eyes briefly flick to where her phone is sitting out and propped up. It's too quick for Jordan to notice but Matt sees it. She knows the call is still going. Matt hits mute before anyone bursts into his quarters or the bells go off and Jordan finds the phone.

Jordan hands Sylvie her Chinese food and Matt realizes that he intercepted the delivery. He doesn't want to know what happened to the poor delivery kid. Sylvie uses the excuse to retreat to the kitchen and casually grabs a dish towel on her way.

His view is suddenly obstructed by fabric, but the call is still going. He can hear _everything_. He picks up his phone and makes a run for Boden's office. This is fucking _insane_. He tries to listen as he sprints across the Firehouse.

"_You don't need that gun, Jordan. I'm not going anywhere."_

"_Not now. That's why I need the gun. With a gun pointed at you, you'll stay put. The minute I set it down you'll try to run. I know your type."_

"_My type?"_

"_The type that doesn't know what's good for you. The type who fights when they should submit. Like Hope."_

For fuck's sake. Does that mean what he thinks it means? He's terrified and pissed and ready to steal the Chief's buggy and go take care of this asshole himself.

"_Or maybe it's the other way around. Maybe Hope was like you. I'm starting to realize I never really knew the real Hope. I knew who she wanted me to believe she was. I fell in love with a person she pretended to be."_

Sylvie sounds hesitant when she speaks, as if she doesn't actually want to know.

"_And who was she pretending to be?"_

"_You. She was trying to be you. But you're one of a kind. No one can replicate your sweetness. Truly. You're clearly too good for this city. You deserve wide open spaces and big blue skies — that's what's best for you and that's what I'm here to give you."_

"_How are you going to give me that, exactly?"_

"_By freeing you from all of this. Rescuing you."_

Rescuing her? What the fuck does that even mean? Sylvie doesn't need to be rescued. He knows what Sylvie's doing. She's stalling him and giving Matt time to get help. But he really wishes he wasn't listening to this right now. Jordan's plan is painfully obvious. He wants to abduct Sylvie and do God knows what to her. Matt cannot let that happen.

"_I don't need to be rescued. I'm happy right where I am."_

"_That's what you think, but you're wrong. You're just like Hope. You have no idea what you really need or that what you want will hurt you in the end. I tried to tell Hope that but she wouldn't listen."_

Jordan starts to sound more frantic. His volume is increasing with every word and Matt can make out a tense gasp coming from Sylvie.

"_Really, Jordan, you don't need that gun. Just put it down."_

"_No, I have this gun so that what happened with Hope never happens again! You'll run away from me just like she did and then I'll have to chase you down and we both know how that ended the first time. I don't want to kill you, Sylvie. I just want you to come with me."_

Finally, the cursing escapes his head and passes over his lips.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" He yells as he reaches the bullpen.

He gets a few scandalized looks but he doesn't give a damn. He bursts into Boden's office - ignoring the closed door meeting that's happening between Severide, Herrmann, and Boden.

"Chief, I'm sorry," Matt says with an aggravated huff. "But we have a situation."

"I didn't hear the bells-"

"It's not a call," Casey announces. "Just-_Goddamn it,_ just listen."

He holds his phone out to let them hear the conversation. The silence is miraculously timed for a perfect confession.

"_Are you-Jordan, are you telling me that you killed Hope? Because the police are saying it was her ex who-"_

"_Her fucking ex could barely string a sentence together. He was a drunk bastard with barely a single brain cell left in his head. He would not be able to track down where Hope was headed and beat her there. He was an angry asshole who beat the shit out of her, sure, but he wasn't smart."_

Severide's eyes meet his and narrow into a livid glare. "Is that Jordan?"

"What the hell is this?" Boden asks as he comes around his desk.

"I was on the phone with Sylvie when that Jordan asshole showed up at her door. He's holding her at gunpoint and saying all kinds of insane psychotic shit," Matt tells them as he tries to get his fear and anger under control. "The way he tells it, he killed Hope."

"That prick that showed up at the Firehouse the other week?" Herrmann all but yells.

Severide hastily quiets all of them as Jordan speaks up again.

"_He was dumb as shit. So dumb, that it didn't take much to get him to drink himself unconscious. Asshole thought he was safe just cause I bought him the whiskey."_

"_You...oh god. You killed the ex? It wasn't a suicide?"_

The fear, Sylvie's done so well at disguising, suddenly edges it's way into her voice. Matt wishes he could reach through the phone and stangle this guy. He needs to get him far away from Sylvie. As soon as possible.

Upon hearing that Boden picks up his phone and immediately dials a number. His jaw is tense and his hand is so tight around the handset that Matt's afraid it might break. Everyone in the room looks the same. Locked jaws and fisted hands.

"_I did him a favor, Sylvie. He was a waste of space. Like your Captain Boyfriend."_

"_Leave Matt out of this."_

"_I wish I could. He's the reason I know you won't leave willingly."_

"_I won't leave willingly because I love Chicago. My life is here."_

"_I know, but that's why I'm here - to help you find a new life. A new home. With me."_

"What the _fuck_? Is he for real?" Kelly curses as he grabs his radio out of his chair in Boden's office. "Chief, we have to get down there. Let me load up Squad and-"

Boden doesn't say anything. He simply holds up a finger and shakes his head.

Casey is this close to defying orders and rallying his Truck crew so he understands when Severide blows out an irritated breath and turns his back on their Chief.

"All due respect, Chief," Matt begins, fighting off the urge to punch a hole in Boden's office wall. "If we don't get to her now, we might be too late. She's been stalling for too long as it is. She knows I'm still on the line and if this bastard finds her phone-" A groan that resembles a growl escapes him as a horror show of possibilities flickers through his imagination. "I cannot let anything happen to her. There's too much at stake and I will _not_ lose her. So if I have to get in my truck and drive over there by myself I-"

"Voight," Boden says into the phone. Giving Matt a quick sympathetic glance. He can tell Boden has things he wants to say to him but no time to say them. "Get your people over to Sylvie Brett and Joe Cruz's apartment right now. Your case that you thought was closed? It sure as hell isn't. My medic is being held hostage by Hope's actual killer and if anything happens to her I will be coming for _you_. Not your team - _you_. Do you understand?"

Boden pauses and then slams the phone down on it's base. "Intelligence is on their way. Get in the damn trucks and go get our PIC out of there. That's an order."

Herrmann squeezes Matt's shoulder to get his attention.

"Brett's quick on her feet and smart as a damn whip, Casey. She got a confession out of the guy. She can hold him off till we get there. She's got this," Herrmann assures him before he takes off to help rally the troops.

As they yell for everyone to load up, Matt tunes back into the conversation on his phone.

"_Just imagine it, Sylvie. You and me and a quiet life somewhere far away from our pasts. You'll love it. I know you will. It'll be like all the best parts of Fowlerton."_

"_That sounds nice, Jordan. It really does. But I've tried the leaving Chicago thing, remember? It led me right back here."_

"_That was before you had me. You won't quit this time. I won't let you. Hope couldn't leave me and neither can you. You just have to trust that I know what you need and who you need it with."_

Matt might finally kill someone. All these years, he's avoided it. Odd for someone as hot headed as he is, but dammit if Jordan wasn't going to test every moral fiber of his being. If he lays one hand on Sylvie, Matt will not be responsible for his actions.

He climbs into his truck and shuts the door just as Stella takes off toward Sylvie's apartment. Matt holds his phone between them and glares at anyone in the Truck cab who makes too much noise.

"_I don't blame you for not trusting me, Sylvie. It's going to take some time. But eventually you'll see. We belong together. We can build a life. You'll be such a great mom and you won't have to worry about saving anyone's life or how you'll pay for rent once your roommate gets married. You'll be a wife and a mother and that's all you'll need. Peaceful, normal. And then eventually once you're used to it, we can have your parents out to visit. They'll love the little house I've picked out for us. You'll be settled and happy and you won't give a damn about anyone or anything in Chicago anymore."_

"_I-" Sylvie stutters tearfully but a deep fortifying breath brings the false brightness back to her tone. "I think you're right. You know, maybe you do see things more clearly than I do. But before we go, there's just so many things here that are from my family. I'd hate to leave any of that behind. Could I...would it be okay, I mean, if I packed a bag?"_

"God, she's brilliant," Stella says through a tense breath. "Keep playing along, Brett." Kidd's eyes meet his with fierce determination. "We're three minutes out. I've run every red light between here and there, Captain."

"Intelligence should be there any minute too," Matt says - more to assure himself than Stella. "They had a minute or two lead on us."

"_I think that's a good idea."_

There's a sudden shuffling on the line and he hears Sylvie make a sound of protest.

"_You should pack these cookbooks. Hope used to tell me what a wonderful cook you-"_

The fabric is pulled away from the camera - revealing Jordan staring at the phone with a livid and betrayed expression.

"_Bitch, what the hell? You've been on the phone with your fucking boyfriend this whole time?"_

"Goddammit!" Matt curses before taking the phone off mute. No point now. "Sylvie, we're just a few minutes out. You have to get away from him until we can get there!"

He's not sure if she can hear him over Jordan's yelling, but he can hear her. She's yelling at Jordan just as loudly and he's yelling at her. Not backing down, not cowering. Never giving up. Despite the situation, he finds himself thinking..._that's my girl._

"Sylvie?" He tries again. He just needs her to confirm she heard him. He needs to know she's fighting like hell to get away from him.

There's a scuffle and he hears her shout, but he can't tell what's going on. The picture is black. Jordan must have the camera covered by his hand or shoved in his pocket. A second later, there's a cry of pain, a loud crash and then the call cuts out.

Cutting him off from Sylvie and any knowledge of what's going on in that apartment.

"Kidd!" Casey yells as he violently tosses his now useless phone onto the dash of the truck. He opens his mouth to order her to drive faster but she beats him to it.

"Copy that, Captain. I am doing my best to break the sound barrier. I promise."

This is not how things with Brett are going to end. He won't let it. He hasn't even worked up the guts to tell her he loves her! She can't be gone before they've even gotten started. He's been dealt a lot of shit hands in his life but this will not be one of them.

Not her. Not now. _Not ever._


	32. Not Like That

**A/N:** Well, my plan was to post this tomorrow, BUT the news about Annie leaving CF came out today and I'm bummed. I figure other people must be bummed too and maybe this chapter will help. I know you guys comments and reviews always cheer me up so hopefully an update will do the same for all of you.

THIS IS IT. THIS IS THE LAST CHAPTER. I'll save the mushy stuff for the note on the epilogue but WOW THANK YOU GUYS FOR STICKING WITH ME AND READING THIS STORY. It's been so much fun to write!

Happy reading!

angellwings

* * *

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO: Not Like That

* * *

"Bitch, what the hell? You've been on the phone with your fucking boyfriend this whole time?"

_Fuck_. She's been caught. Time to lie her ass off and pray he believes her.

"No! I forgot he was on the line!" She yells back. "You distracted me! Maybe if you hadn't shoved a gun in my face I would have remembered!"

She thinks she hears Matt's voice over the line but Jordan sticks her phone in his back pocket so the sound is muffled.

"I fucking told you that you would try to leave me and that I needed this gun to keep you here. You _almost _had me convinced you wouldn't but turns out that I was fucking _right_. Women are all the goddamn same. I can give you everything in the world and it will never be enough," Jordan shouts.

Screw playing along. She's _done _playing along. This asshole wants to force her into the very life she ran away from..._twice_. Sure, she wants kids and a marriage and a home, but she wants it on her terms! If she wants to work then she'll goddamn work! If she wants to stay home then she'll be the best stay-at-home wife and mother there's ever been. But it will be her decision! No one else's.

"It will never be enough, Jordan, because you're an asshole. A misogynistic _violent_ asshole! My life is mine and you have no right to try and tell me how to live it! Not even holding me at gunpoint will give you that power!"

His face turns red with rage as he rushes toward her. She tries to back away but ends up slamming her back into the kitchen cabinets.

His hand grabs her hair at the base of her neck. She winces at his tight grip before he aggressively tugs her head back, forcing her neck into an off uncomfortable angle.

"Shut your fucking mouth!" He screams in her face.

The gun is held loosely at his side. He doesn't have it aimed anywhere near her. He's so upset that he's not thinking about anything else. She pulls her knee up with force. Only caring that she makes contact, not really caring _where_. But she lucks out with the angle he's currently holding her and hits him square between the legs. He cries out and doubles over. She uses his weakness to shove him away from her. He crashes into the floor, falling on his ass, and she makes a break for it.

The gun fell out of his hand and clattered to the ground. As she ran past him she kicked it further away. She spots a bat in the umbrella stand near the entryway. She can hear Jordan recovering behind her. Her adrenaline spikes, swallowing her fear. Her fingers wrap around the grip on the metal bat just as Jordan grabs her around the waist.

She spins with the bat in front of her. He ducks but doesn't move fast enough to keep her second swing from making contact. He staggers back into the couch, covering the side of his face where the hit landed. He's not unconscious but he's dazed enough that his eyes become unfocused and he loses his balance. She rips open her apartment door and sprints toward the stairs — the bat still held tight in her hand. As she reaches the stairs she can make out lumbering heavy steps following her. Jordan's coming. He's not far behind her.

She runs as fast as she can, jumping a few steps every so often. She needs any advantage on him she can get. She bursts through the door to the lobby and keeps going. Her feet hit the sidewalk just as a couple of cars belonging to Intelligence screech to a halt. She sees a flash of red further down the street and hears a familiar voice yelling her name.

_Matt!_ That flash of red was 81!

Black and yellow turn out pants appear, standing out from the plain clothes officers. She needs only a glimpse of the white polo on top to know exactly who it is.

"Matt!" She yells as tears flood her vision.

"Sylvie!"

She throws herself at him, dropping the bat as she goes. Her arms coil tightly around his neck while his band around her waist and lift. Her feet barely come off the ground but it's enough for him to carry her back behind the line of Intelligence officers.

"Thank God," he mutters into her hair before peppering the side of her head with kisses. "Are you okay?"

He sets her feet on the ground and arches back to get a good look at her. His hands frame her face while his fingers tangle in her wild blonde hair, smoothing it down. He gently angles her face to look for any bruises or redness and visibly relaxes when he finds none.

"I'm okay," she assures him in a shaky voice. The adrenaline is beginning to fade and the fear is breaking through. The reality of what's just happened is hitting her. Tears she'd been holding at bay finally fall.

Behind them, the doors from the building open, and the officers begin shouting. Officers that Sylvie just now recognizes as Upton, Atwater, Ruzek, and Halstead.

"Jordan! Put the gun down!" Upton yells. "Put the gun down and place your hands on your head!"

Matt gently pulls Sylvie behind him. His hands keep a tight hold on hers. She gets the feeling he's ready to grab her and run the minute Jordan makes even the slightest move toward her.

Sylvie peeks over Matt's shoulder. Jordan must have gone back for the gun before he followed her. He spots Matt in the crowd and the anger in his eyes is greater than any he pointed at her. He raises the gun toward Casey, and a split second later shots are fired.

But not from Jordan's gun.

Jordan yells out in pain as he crumples to the ground. He took two shots. One to the shoulder and one to the knee.

"Asshole," Upton mutters as Jordan is surrounded by the other members of Intelligence.

She turns to Matt and Sylvie in concern. "You two alright?"

Both Matt and Sylvie nod.

"We're good," he answers. "Get that bastard away from her."

"On it," Hailey agrees before rushing to join her unit.

"Come on," Matt says softly as he wraps an arm around Sylvie's shoulders and leads her away from the scene. "Foster's here. Let's get her to look you over."

"Matt, really, I'm okay," she tells him before she leans into his side and curls into him. She presses her face into his shoulder and tightens her arms around his middle. "I'd much rather stay here with you until someone needs my statement."

Matt is safety and certainty and warmth. He's all the things she needs right now.

He leans back to give her a long worried look but then nods and concedes to her request — pulling her right back into his arms.

As the scene is taped up and photographed, 51 slowly trickles by to see Sylvie in groups of two or three. When Chief stops by, he hands Matt the keys to his buggy and tells him he'll catch a ride back with 81. Matt is free to stay as long as it takes PD to get Sylvie's statement. Truck, Engine, and Ambo head back to the house and, not long after that, Voight shows up with Halstead in tow.

"Hey, Sylvie," he says as he stops in front of them. "You doing okay?"

She's been crying and she knows her tear stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes make that painfully obvious so she glowers at Voight in response. "As well as I can be considering I was just attacked in my own home by the man who murdered Hope and then stalked me."

Halstead winces apologetically. "Yeah, that was our bad. The scene with the ex-boyfriend was immaculate, though. Jordan didn't leave any prints or anything. He knew what he was doing and there was nothing off about how the gun was positioned in his hand or anything out of place in that motel room—"

"But none of you actually looked into Jordan," Matt interjects with a glare.

"No, we didn't," Voight admitted apologetically. "We should have. That's an unusual mistake for us and I'll own it. We dropped the ball on this one."

Matt's arm around her tenses and he takes in a deep breath. She knows what both of those things precede. Matt is about to give Voight a piece of his mind. Sylvie brings her hand up to his chest to get his attention and then shakes her head. Not now. She's too exhausted to stand here and front off with Voight. She wants this over and done with.

"If you don't mind," Sylvie says with an exhausted sigh. "I'd like to give you my statement so I can get out of here, please."

"Of course," Voight agrees.

She needs this whole experience to be over so she can move on with her life. For a moment, she really thought she would never see Matt or any one she loved ever again. And if that had happened Matt never would have known how she feels about him. How could she be so stupid? She should know never to keep that from anyone by now. Life is too uncertain to take anyone or anything for granted.

So, right now, she wants to give her statement and be alone with Matt. She doesn't care who's to blame for Jordan slipping through the cracks of the investigation. It doesn't matter. Not now that PD has the right guy for Hope's murder.

She doesn't want to stand here in the street pointing fingers all night.

She just wants Matt.

The sooner they get away from the scene, the sooner she can have him all to herself.

* * *

Standing next to Sylvie and listening to her recount everything that happened to Halstead and Voight drives home what Matt already knew and gives it greater impact.

He almost lost her tonight.

She got herself out through her own brilliance and ingenuity but had any one thing not gone her way then who the hell knows what could have happened?

Once she's done giving her statement and being grilled by Voight, they walk off toward Boden's buggy. (Was the grilling really goddamn necessary? Asking the same question ten times is not going to yield a different answer. They caught the guy chasing Sylvie down with a gun in his hands for Chist's sake!) If not for Sylvie's calming hand on his chest, just over his rapidly beating heart, he highly suspects he would have knocked the man's teeth out. Sylvie's been through enough. Voight wasn't helping.

Once they're both inside, he starts the engine and turns to face her.

"You sure you're okay?"

She nods and reaches over to lace her fingers through his. "As much as I can be. Something about that suicide always felt too easy. Now I know why. I feel like Hope's death is finally truly resolved. I'm shaken up but...I'll be okay. And if I'm ever not, I'll be sure to tell you. Deal?"

"Deal," he agrees before he leans across the middle console and kisses her. His kiss is soft and slow but it doesn't deepen. "Where do you want me to take you? To mine and Severide's?"

She shakes her head. "No, I want to go back to 51. With you. I wanna be with my family."

He smiles warmly and lifts the back of her hand to his lips. "Then 51 it is."

He'll go wherever and do whatever she wants right now. Just so long as she's comfortable and safe. When they arrive Sylvie is surrounded by the mob at 51, and Matt chooses that moment to slip away and give Boden back his keys. When he comes back, Sylvie's no longer in the common area with 51.

"She's in your quarters," Foster informs him. "The adrenaline's gone now. She needed to crash."

He had a feeling that was coming. "Thanks," he says as he turns and heads toward the bunk room.

He finds her tucked into his bed in a clean pair of CFD sweats she must have borrowed off of someone. She looks small and vulnerable. Which is the opposite of that fearless woman with a bat in her hand who came striding out of her apartment building earlier that night.

As he enters, she pushes herself as far against the wall as she can and pats the small space next to her. He grins fondly at her, toes off his shoes, and then squeezes into bed beside her.

"You look comfortable," he tells her as he puts his arms around her.

He rearranges them until she's practically laying on top of him. It's the only way to make the small cot comfortable. Her head is tucked under his chin and her arm is slung across his chest. It's tight but extremely cozy.

She presses a kiss to his jaw. "I wasn't, but I am now." There's a quiet pause before she speaks again in a soft voice that's heavy with tears. "I had a moment where I really thought I would never see you or this place ever again. God, Matt, I was so scared."

"You are a true badass, Sylvie Brett," he says reassuringly before dropping a kiss to her forehead. "You fought like hell and I have never been prouder of you. But of course you were scared. I was too. Thinking that I could lose you like that…"

His own tears threaten to fall and he hastily runs a hand over his face to prevent them.

"That's not how things with us will ever end, okay?" Matt says as he closes his eyes and pulls her tighter against him. "Not like that."

"Matt," she says with an apologetic wince. "I don't think either of us can make that promise."

"I know," he relents. "But can we just pretend that we're normal for a while?"

A soggy chuckle fills the air as she nods against him. "Happy to."

Comfortable silence overtakes them. Sylvie's breathing slows, but she's not asleep. He can tell by the way her fingers are tracing over the red bugles on his collar. The fact that they don't have to talk to be there for each other fills him to the brim with the love he feels for her. He's kept it to himself for so long and tonight showed him all the reasons he shouldn't.

He reaches up and grabs the hand that's playing with his collar. He interlocks their fingers and turns his chin down to meet her eyes. "Sylvie?"

"Hm?" She asks as her curious blue eyes crash against his.

"I love you."

She sucks in a sudden breath and water pools in her eyes but, unlike when she shed tears earlier, there's a bright smile stretching across her lips. "You do?"

"God, yes," he says with a relieved exhale. "I am crazy in love with you — head over ass in love with you."

She laughs and it's a lighthearted sound that he hasn't heard from her all night long. It eases a bit of his concern.

Her free hand finds its way into the short hair at the back of his neck as she replies. "I love you too, Matt. So much. Being with you has been the _best _thing about this whole crazy mess."

"I don't know where things go from here," he says honestly. "But wherever it goes, I want to go there with you. You think we can do that?"

She smiles warmly at him and nods, still running her fingers through his hair. The motion sends goosebumps over his skin, but so does the confidence in her answer.

"I don't just _think_ we can do that," she tells him. "I know we can."


	33. Epilogue: My Turn

**A/N: **This is it! This is the epilogue! After this the story is complete! I want to say a few thank you's before you guys start reading.

First, thank you to katertots! She was such a big help during all of this! And my friend Jenna! I don't think she'll read this story but she did majorly help with shaping the ending! I have a group of amazing writer friends and I love them all very much for listening to me change my mind about a hundred times on various plot points lol.

Second, TO ANYONE WHO FAVORITED/REVIEWED/KUDOS'D/COMMENTED thank you so much! Your support means everything! One vlog I watch jokingly ends their videos with "and now it's time to pay the price!" which means since they do a lot of their work for free and spend their own time making their videos the best way to compensate them is to comment or subscribe. That concept VERY MUCH applies to fanfic too! (even more so cause vloggers can earn money from ad revenue, fanfic authors CANNOT). Thank you to all of you who "paid the price" by interacting with my fic in some way shape or form! I appreciate you so much! You make created content for this fandom a rewarding experience!

Third, to anyone who spread word about this fic and helped people discover it, YOU ARE AMAZING. THANK YOU SO MUCH. I appreciate everytime I see someone share the fic on twitter or Tumblr! It means the WORLD to me!

And now, on with the show!

Happy reading!

angellwings

PS - I have another multichap coming VERY SOON that I think you'll all REALLY enjoy ;)

* * *

EPILOGUE: My Turn

* * *

**ONE MONTH LATER…**

"Are hand-me-downs suddenly cool?" Sylvie asks him in confusion as they walk down the hall toward her door.

He laughs and shakes his head. "Don't think so, no."

Sylvie furrows her brow as she digs a hand in her purse for her keys. "So, then why was Violet so excited about that bag of my clothes she found in the back of your truck?"

"I think it's less about hand-me-downs and more about you, Sylvie," Matt tells her with an amused grin. "She seems to think you're the coolest thing since Taylor Swift or that's the impression Christie and I have anyway."

She guffaws, finally grabs her much too heavy key ring out of her purse, and sticks the key in the lock. "Me? I'm hardly cool. I'm a former farmgirl who watches too much HGTV and belts power ballads in the shower."

"Who moved here on a whim without knowing a single soul and became a badass paramedic who's saved countless lives," he summarizes with a fond but exasperated sigh. "We really need to work on your self perception."

"Says the man who refuses to acknowledge the good work he does for the community _outside_ of the Firehouse," Sylvie replies, tossing a challenging glare at him.

She opens the door and steps inside.

He follows with a modest shrug. "I'm just doing what any average decent person would do."

"Yes, giving your time, money, and manpower to replace a woman's window free of charge after you guys had to bust through it to save her husband's life is totally what any _average_ person would do. I'm sure," she says with a playful eye roll as she throws her purse down on the couch.

He closes and locks the door behind them with a dry chuckle. "Okay, point made. I'm a hypocrite."

She turns and smiles boastfully at him. "But a modest one and that's the best kind, really." Her shoes are kicked off by the couch as she heads to the kitchen. "Okay, we've eaten Christie's vegan lasagna, or in your case pretended to, so now what are we actually having for dinner?"

Sylvie pulls a stack of take out menus out of the drawer by the fridge and spreads them out across the counter.

He smirks, walks over to her, and kisses the top of her head. "Whatever you want. You're the one who made the biggest sacrifice and actually ate the thing so you get to choose."

"It wasn't so bad, really," Sylvie tells him with a soft smile. "Besides, it was really sweet of her to cook for us. It felt rude not to at least try it."

"Babe," he says with a light laugh. "Even Violet didn't eat it and she actually is vegan. I love my sister but she is a terrible cook. That would be the case even without the diet."

"Hey! It wasn't all bad! The dessert was good!" Sylvie says defensively.

"It was berries and coconut cream," he tells her with a light chuckle. "Kinda hard to mess that up."

She plucks a menu for a barbecue restaurant out of the stack and unfolds it across the counter. "Just pick what you want and leave your sister alone. She tries her best."

His chuckle turns into a full laugh. "How many more dinners will it take before you finally admit you don't like her cooking?"

The pointed silence in reply to his question is full of stubborn determination without her having to utter a word. It's completely charming. He grins and shakes his head before pulling her into his arms and kissing her firmly.

When he pulls away, he tucks her into his chest and kisses her temple before speaking against the shell of her ear. "You are entirely too nice. It's one of the many reasons I love you."

She relaxes into his embrace and he feels a featherlight kiss to the hinge of his jaw. "I love you too. Even if you're a bit of a jerk to your sister."

He keeps one arm around her as they choose their food and Sylvie calls in their order. Once that's done he remembers the second bag of clothes that still sits in his truck bed. He helped her carry them down before dinner. She had two huge trash bags full of clothes. They were too big to fit in her trunk.

"By the way, what am I doing with that bag of clothes I still have?" He asks.

"Can you drop them off at the donation spot near your apartment?" She asks, grabbing his hand and pulling him over to the couch.

He nods while they settle in. Sylvie tucks herself into his side with her legs folded underneath her. His arm naturally goes around her as he answers her. "On my way home tomorrow. Do you really have that many clothes?"

She laughs lightly and nods. "A woman's wardrobe is a little more complicated than a man's wardrobe, okay? We can't just wear the same charcoal sweater for a decade like guys can. I was long overdue for cleaning out my closet. Speaking of! I wanted to show you something!"

She jumps up from the couch and pulls him with her. Nevermind that they just got settled and he was enjoying the way she'd snuggled up to him. She drags him to her room, pushes him down to sit on her bed, and then opens her closet door with a flourish. Her pointer finger is lifted in his direction to tell him to wait and then she crosses the room to open two of her dresser drawers. Both are empty. She does her best Vana White, motioning to them with graceful open hands.

"See?" She asks excitedly.

He blinks at her. Not quite sure what she's getting at. The closet looks as though a third of it has been emptied and the drawers are bare except for a bit of contact paper in the bottom.

"Um, yeah, that's great! Good job?" He offers weakly with a confused expression.

Her shoulders sag with a huff. "You don't get it, do you?"

He grimaces and gives her an apologetic glance. "No, I guess I don't."

"Okay, let me try this," Sylvie tells him. "Stay right there. I'll only be a second."

He's not exactly sure where else he'd go but he nods and stays put anyway.

She comes back a couple of minutes later with a tiny manila envelope in her hand. "Here."

It's pressed into his palm before she joins him on the bed with her teeth sunk into her bottom lip. She looks anxious and he has no idea why. He opens the envelope and dumps it's contents into his hand.

It's a key. A plain metal key.

The key, the drawers, the closet.

It all suddenly clicks.

A smile he has no hope of stopping stretches across his face until his cheeks start to hurt. He holds the key up for her to see as he speaks. "Is this a key to your apartment?"

She nods.

"And the drawers are for me?" He asks.

She nods again, this time with a light blush. "The closet space too. That way you can keep some things here so you're not always having to carry your duffle back and forth-"

He surges forward and captures her lips with his. His tongue runs along her bottom lip to coax her mouth open. When she responds, he pockets the key and presses her back into the mattress. His mouth focuses on ravaging hers while his hands slowly unbutton her flannel shirt. Her hands travel south, reaching for the fly of his jeans. There's no doubt where this is headed now. He leans back as he finishes unbuttoning her shirt to meet her eyes.

"Thank you for the key," he tells her with his forehead pressed to hers. "And the drawers and the closet space. It's perfect."

"I love you," she says with a wide smile. "And you made space for me when I needed you most so I thought...well, I thought it was my turn. You're welcome here - in my space and my room - anytime you want. You don't even have to call. Day or night. Whenever. Just come."

"I'll keep that in mind," he promises. "I love you too."

And he plans to keep on loving her for a long time to come.

Hell, he'll love her forever if she'll have him. Maybe even longer than that.


End file.
